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"Cleansed?" Justin said. "I don't see any buckets and mops around here so-" Justin's argument was silenced by the entire mission erupting into flame before him.

"Oh, that's what you meant. Saves on time I suppose..."

“Geeze, well, that’s not very tactful,” Scar suddenly said, looking the SuperStarmon over. He gave a loud ‘hmm’ sound before nodding to himself.

“Okay, Jus, my friend, first lesson in picking up girls is sensitivity and sentimentality,” he told the star shaped Digimon. “How would you feel if the place burning up were your pad? Your place? Your home? I dunno ‘bout you, but I’d either be POed or broken, or maybe both.”

He took a thoughtful look on his face. “I’m willing to bet that Barachiel might be crying his heart out. And if he were a lady, then that would be an ideal time to get brownie points. To just go over and be the nice guy that tries to understand. You get what I’m sayin’ here, bud? But you gotta watch what ya say or you’ll end up with a red hand print on your face instead of red lipstick,” he explained, putting a paw on Justin’s shoulder.

“’Course, that doesn’t mean you only bring out the sentimental side when ya see a damsel in distress. It helps when you’re just trying to be a friend, and when you’re trying to show that you’re more than muscle…even though the chicks dig ‘em,” he had to add, raising an arm to flex a muscular bicep.

“Speaking of chicks, do you know any of the available ones in this little group here?” he asked, looking around. “I mean, I see a lot of them, and other than Pyra, I have no idea who’s taken and who’s not. It’d be a shame if none of ‘em are available; they’re all pretty hot.”

------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on a broken piece of a pillar, Aeria pressed her fingers against her head, massing her temple because of a headache that had begun to settle ever since she exited the room. Her body was feeling warm and slightly feverish, and she hoped that she wouldn’t black out. It didn’t take her long to figure out that, along with the previous experience, her body was beginning to feel the fatigue from all the constant travelling and fighting.

She bit her lower lip, though. She couldn’t just up and ask if they could stay longer so that she could recover. She looked around, hoping to find the one person she thought might have the key to help curb her weariness. Finding the one she was looking for, the WarGreymon stood up shakily and started to walk towards her.

“Miss Ivy?” she called out to the Lilymon X. She stopped right in front of the newly married Digimon, looking hesitant before opening her mouth once more.

“Um, d-do you have any herbs that can help relieve stress and f-fatigue? And maybe one that helps with pain?” she asked shyly. “I don’t need much. J-just for a small headache and, um, to help me recover a bit fast,” she added, her voice lowering as her timidity started to kick in. She bowed her head.

Aeria raised her head, glancing around her and at the Peacemakers that minded their own businesses around them.

“They’re all so strong,” she said to herself. She squeaked when she realized that she just said her thoughts out loud. “I-I mean…well,” she started, looking around nervously before resignation on her face registered. “I…I don’t know how they managed this those months ago. It’s…it’s so…exhausting,” she said, rubbing her arms.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I…I’ll just get the herbs and not bother you anymore,” she said, blushing and looking away from Ivy.

------------------------------------------------------

Barachiel flew away from him and swooped down in front of the others. He bowed his head in shame. "I'm... very sorry for the way that I acted. Everything that has happened must have got to me and caused me to lose control of my anger. I hope you can all forgive me... the demon included."

“Tut tut tut,” Cresil’s voice echoed from one part of large stone debris. The shadow it created rippled to great effect before an Astamon’s head popped out, following the rest of body. With his arms folded and shook his head. “What kind of holy acolyte apologizes to a demon?” he asked to no one in particular, letting his arms spread outwards in mock exasperation.

He turned back to Barachiel, a grin back on his face. “Let this be a lesson to you, Barkie,” he said as he started to walk towards the TigerVespamon. He then stopped and let his eyes sweep amongst the Peacemakers. “In fact, let this be a lesson to all of you.”

“Everything you’ve heard and believed about demons? They’re true to most of us, ain’t that right, Cain?” he said, glancing at the Beelzemon. “We’re not afraid to push your buttons and may even enjoy it. We love watching you squirm and act exactly the way we want you to, even when we let you think otherwise.”

His eyes widened and his grin grew, exposing his sharp canines. “Perhaps some of you may already know this. But for those who don’t, let me enlighten you.

“The most dangerous thing about us isn’t our potential powers. It isn’t in our magic. It isn’t in our ruthlessness. It’s our mind! It is when you do everything we expect you to! It is when you make yourself so easily manipulated! It is when we play you like marionettes with invisible strings that can reach you farther than you know! It is when you walk right into our carefully laid out traps! And we revel in playing mortals like fools,” he exclaimed, his voice growing louder and more maniacal. “By now, all of you should have learned that, and if not, then get through your skulls and let it stick there. Mephistopheles is not your average demon, that is for certain…but then again, none of you are average Digimon,” he said, lowering his arms and giving each of them a look.

“I suggest all of you to do your best in being unpredictable,” he said, letting his chin rest on his fist. “And to not let your emotions get the best of you. Especially since that’s the easiest to manipulate.”

The Astamon turned to Michael. “We can assume that Mephistopheles’ reach is quite, quite far indeed, and the interventions we have done seem more like distractions.” He then smiled. “Loki, however, is quite an interesting fellow. I cannot wait to see what he suggests we do,” he told the MagnaAngemon.

“And maybe you can all hope that you’re still not doing exactly what the demon goat wants you to,” he added with a grin.

He then turned back to Barachiel. “And you…next time, don’t be so easy,” he told the TigerVespamon, and then his body dropped back into his shadow as if he were on top of water.

------------------------------------------------------

From a distance, Azur sighed and shook himself to clear his head. He felt great relief having escaped the smell of death, or at least the brunt of it. He wasn’t quite sure if the scent of the fire of Michael’s holy fire was any better. The smell of fire barely did anything for him unless it was made with real wood that gave it the accents of scent marks of a forest.

Trying to remember it, the WereGarurumon closed his eyes, letting himself relax. He also began to practice enhancing his senses, letting his sense of hearing and smell expand around him. And then he froze, feeling a strong chill run down his space.

He jerked his head around, immediately on guard. He looked around him, scrutinizing every shadow and hole, yet he couldn’t find whatever had given him the ominous sensation. And then he glanced to his side, and Azur furrowed his eyebrows.

‘That’s not right,’ he thought, clenching his fists. ‘That’s what my senses are telling me…and Galic always told me to trust my senses…but is this really…?’ he kept on wondering, his eyes zoning in on the source of the dreadful feeling that had begun to creep up his spine.

“Kole…” he muttered, watching the Piedmon from a distance as the clown Digimon spoke with Tia.

There are stories made from the imagination. There are stories born from experience.
There are stories told because of a need to be filled. There are stories that simply need to be told.This is one of them.

“Maybe there really is a method to his madness…or maybe he’s just plain insane."Chapter 3: Act III is out and posted!

Michael watched and waited as the pure-white flames burned away the mission; even the stones smoldered under the fire's power. He ignored the seething voice of Barachiel and his subsequent outburst; he ignored Cresil's taunting, though the demon was right. They were not approaching this in the right manner. Even he was unprepared for the depth of foresight required to tackle this adversary. Michael had never faced a demon as devious as Mephistopheles; never one so cunning or with such a well-planned objective. Mephistopheles was a master trickster and manipulator, as dangerous as the Demon Lords themselves in that regard. It was why he decided to consult with Loki; if anyone could unravel the strings of Mephistopheles's conspiracy, it was him.

"Do not lose such faith, Barachiel," Michael said as he continued to watch the fire burn. "To leave Hadrael's mission standing would have been an insult to everything he worked for; it was filled with a wickedness and malevolence that left it as a scar of the face of the world. Two seals were broken in that place, blood was spilled, and the true names of the Demon Lords were whispered without hesitation. It could not be left as it was."

The wood had long since burned to ash and the stone cracked and shattered; there was nothing left of the mission. But still Michael waited, watching the cleared patch of earth. To cleanse was not to simply wipe the slate clean; something more must appear in its place; something that surpasses the nature of what stood before; something more than what was.

"The Host deals not in destruction," Michael said, feeling as the roots of something pure took hold in the earth. "In the beginning when the universe bloomed all was Chaos, there was no Thing. And God filled it with pure creation, with every thing. That is the nature of the Host, pure Creation, and the safeguarding of its wonder." Something in the earth drew his eye. "Now watch."

From a small sliver of newly-turned dirt, a tree grew. The sprouted seedling did not require sunlight or water, but it reached out to the heavens nonetheless. In a few moments it was no longer a seedling, but a sapling. The sapling grew into a mature tree, with branches spreading high and wide into the heavens. The mature tree hardened and became ancient within moments; still full of life, but possessing an otherness. Its truck was thick, too wide for even Gigas to wrap his arms around,

"Pure creation," Michael said again, watching the tree tower in the night sky. He looked to Barachiel, but said nothing and then turned away; it would likely be only a small comfort, but it needed to be done. He looked for Bedivere; he had been absent for some time and hadn't said a word. It was very unlike the new Lord of the Empty Seat.

"We must speak, you and I," he said, leading Bedivere over and away from the rest of the Peacemakers. He sensed Cresil's presence, and was about to tell him to leave, but thought better of it. Cresil could do very-well knowing what Michael was about to say. And if he was right--which he prayed he was not--then they would need Cresil when the time came.

"You and I must be prepared for whatever might come," he said to Bedivere, hoping that Cresil stayed concealed. "With the way things are progressing, I cannot help but fear that we might fail in stopping Mephistopheles before he can break the sixty-six seals. If this happens, Bedivere, we must be ready for what comes next. We must journey into the Inferno..."

=====

Samael walked over to Azur as the wolfman watched Kole with piercing intent.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Looks like there's more to him than meets the eye. There's a lot of us now with a little bit of darkness. Your girlfriend still has it, Kole, Guinier, Sha, Duo." He motioned to the aforementioned Digimon. :This group is a powder keg just waiting to explode. And it will. The question is: is there anything we can do about it?"

"You do raise a good point wolf-man. I may be bright, but my shine is a bright and heroic shine. Sparkles here is more like the aftereffects of a rumble with a neon street sign." Justin then poked Gunnar in the side with his elbow, "No offense."

"None taken, Mister Hero," Gunnar answered with a grin, flicking one of Justin's vertices with his gauntlet-clad fingers. He trained his blue eyes on Scar. "You're right and you're wrong, Teeth," the ShineGreymon said to Scharlach, stuffing a struggling Shoon back into his arms in the process.

"Yeah, it's true that girls like some sensitivity. I mean, a lot of girls have been all over Tyr in the past, not that he understood, but there's another thing girls like too... Chicks like men with confidence, charm, and the ability to make them laugh," he explained, leaning his elbow against Scar's shoulder smugly. "So lose the shades, Shades; you want girls laughing with you, not at you."

He then turned his head from Justin to Scar. "And for the last time, this is not pixie dust! It's residual particles from Burst Mode or something! I'm a light dragon!"

Gunnar turned his nose up and placed his arms behind his head. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if that Tia girl is taken or not."

He left the two to their discussion and scanned the area, looking for the Persiamon in question. He then saw Tia... who was having a brief scuffle with Hira, who seemed to be pushing her buttons in some way.

"Woah, cat-fight," he said to himself. "Not the hot kind either..."

He watched as Tia stormed off and quickly decided that it would be best not to approch her as she was obviously angry. Instead, Gunnar walked over to Hira. "Yo, Stripes, did you strike out or something?" he said, grinning as he looked at the tiger Deva. "Does that mean she's not taken? Or do her and Kole have a thing?"

The smirking Greymon turned back in the direction Tia walked, scouting her out for future reference. "You must have really rubbed her the wrong way, but then again, you don't exactly have a lot of finesse... which is ironic for a feline digimon."

-

Barachiel brushed aside Cresil's comments the best that he could. He turned towards the smouldering ruins of his home and took on a look of sorrow. Taking to his thoughts, he ignored the smell of burning wood and tried to surpress the pain.

"The demon has a point..." he thought, feeling slightly disgusted at himself for thinking so. "I let my emotions get the better of me and there's no doubt that Mephistopheles will do the same. He already captured Hadrael... which means he already has leverage over me. If Mephistopheles threatens his life, I don't know if I'd be able to... Urgh. What would Hadrael want me to do?"

He raised his head as the flames lessened, leaving only ashen earth. "One thing is for certain. I will save you, Hadrael. I promise you that."

"Do not lose such faith, Barachiel," Michael said as he continued to watch the fire burn. "To leave Hadrael's mission standing would have been an insult to everything he worked for; it was filled with a wickedness and malevolence that left it as a scar of the face of the world. Two seals were broken in that place, blood was spilled, and the true names of the Demon Lords were whispered without hesitation. It could not be left as it was."

Barachiel looked over at Michael and stared at him. "I know... I know what Saint Michael says is true," he brooded, tearing his eyes away from the angel and looking back into the dwindling fire. "It would have been a disgrace to leave it, but... that doesn't make the pain of losing it any less devastating."

"The Host deals not in destruction," Michael said, feeling as the roots of something pure took hold in the earth. "In the beginning when the universe bloomed all was Chaos, there was no Thing. And God filled it with pure creation, with every thing. That is the nature of the Host, pure Creation, and the safeguarding of its wonder." Something in the earth drew his eye. "Now watch."

"Yes..." Barachiel thought, remembering back to his lessons. "Hadrael told me that many times... Creation..." He looked over to where he attacked Cresil. "Yet why do I keep trying to destroy? Is it because of my past life? Because I am not of their species?"

He began to close his fist, but stopped himself halfway into the action. Instead, he raised his hand and held his pendents. "No. I am not my brother. I will not blame my past. This flaw is my own and I will overcome it because that's what it means to change... I will become an angel, if not in body then in soul. A fair, righteous and just warrior of God."

Barachiel was then pulled from his thoughts as a tree suddenly began to sprout from amidst the dark ashes. He watched in pure awe as the sapling bloomed at an unnatural rate into a fully grown tree. It towered over the others as it continued to grow into a titan of a tree in the place of the ruins of his home.

"Pure creation," Michael repeated, looking over at him. Barachiel turned towards him. He spoke no words to the archange, but his previous look of contempt was replaced with that of gratitude, though the wounds in his heart still ached.

"Thank you..." he thought inwardly. The TigerVespamon took several steps towards the towering tree. As he grew close, a strange sensation of calmness and repose overtook him. He raised a hand and placed his palm gently against the mighty plant's bark. It wasn't his home, but traces of it still existed within this newly created memorial of sorts.

With his hand still placed on the side of the tree, Barachiel bowed his head and prayed. He prayed for his fallen brothers, he prayed for his destroyed home, he prayed for his own fortitude, and he prayed for Hadrael's safety and wellbeing.

Michael allowed his words to sit with Bedivere, but the dragon man didn't reply. Michael wasn't surprised; he had barely been able to say those words, how could he expect Bedivere to come up with an answer so quickly? He left Bedivere and the others to recover from their ordeals. The cold embrace of night was a bitter reminder of their bleak situation; their hopes rested with Loki.

Loki, who was called the trickster-god, the larcenous one, the lie-crafter...all their hopes rested with one who was utterly and completely untrustworthy. But there were no other options; hunting Mephistopheles was getting them nowhere.

They would have to trust the trickster.

=====

Michael roused the others from sleep as the sun rose. Morning came all too quickly for the Peacemakers; their battered and bruised bodies were only just beginning to recover from the previous day's ordeals, but they had to push onwards. Delaying would only cost them further hardships. He would not push them to race back towards Anatolia at full speed, though; a steady pace would serve them all better. Even his bones felt bruised after the tremendous effort it took to manifest his Grace. Hopefully the gods of the Council would be able to help heal them a bit more.

"You're really about to rely on Loki?" Samael asked as he flew beside Michael. He preferred traveling on the Behemoth, but his Blast Mode's wings were more efficient for avoiding the terrain. It was either Digivolve or ask Gigas for a ride...and Samael would be beholden to no one.

"We don't have much choice," Michael muttered, not happy with the situation either. "If anyone can see through Mephistopheles's scheme and figure out what to do next it's Loki."

"I'll just put down that I think this is a crappy idea then," Samael hissed.

"Duly noted."

=====

Anatolia came into view as the Peacemakers soared through the sky. Below, the newly-constructed Council Hall loomed over the bustling city. Michael led the descent through the air towards the courtyard and the Peacemakers followed in his wake. The attendants and caretakers of the hall made way for them as they landed; word had spread of their mission, and no one was eager to stand in their way and risk preventing them from stopping the Apocalypse.

"Council members," Michael said, acknowledging the six-seated Council with a nod. "I trust you've been made aware of the situation."

"Delegations from the Holy Host arrived yesterday and spoke with us," Ahura Mazda said, nodding to the Peacemakers in return. "But we would prefer to receive a report from you directly. Tell us, what's happened? I trust you were able to handle the situation in Avalon?"

Michael quickly explained their situation; the rising of the witnesses in Avalon, the breaking of the other seals, Mephistopheles's attack on Sei-Ryujin and the other Elder Compass Gods, the transformation of Thor into Conquest and subsequent annihilation of the Chess Kingdom, and all the rest.

"This is most disturbing news," said Ijapa. The turtle god shook his head. "I could not imagine a single Ultimate-level demon to be so dangerous."

"And they were worried I would be the destroyer in the family," Loki said with a bemused smirk. "My brother did far more damage than I could ever hope to."

"We returned because we need your help, Loki," Michael said, choosing not to counter or argue Loki's claims. "We've been unable to predict or counter Mephistopheles's moves and it has cost us dearly. We figured you were our best chance of outmaneuvering him."

"Is that so?" Loki smirked. He leaned forward in his chair and interlocked his fingers in front of his face. "I can scarcely believe it; the famed Peacemakers coming to me for help? I'm flattered, Michael."

"What can you suggest?" Michael asked. "What should we do? What more do you need to know in order to figure out--?"

"Nothing, Michael," Loki answered quickly. "And that is the answer to all your questions: nothing. Do nothing."

"Explain."

"What does he know?" Samael sighed in exasperation. "Remember back with the Royal Knights and the Mikaboshi? This creep was hiding under a rock the whole damn time."

"Samael," Michael growled; the fallen angel wasn't helping, but Michael shared his sentiments. "Loki, we cannot do nothing. Mephistopheles must be stopped."

"Oh, I most certainly agree," Loki said. "I have no interest in seeing Lucifer tear down the walls and recreate this world in his rule...especially when I have become so comfortable ruling it myself. But to do anything more is to risk playing into Mephisto's plans. To do more is to give him room. The trickster excels in slight of hand and misdirection; give him an audience or a fool to trick and he will astound you."

Loki waved his hands dramatically and pointed to Guinier, Pyra, Lucia, and Ivy. "Ace of hearts, two of diamonds, ten of diamonds, ace of clubs." He pointed to each of them as he spoke. "You'll find those cards on your person. And for myself," he closed one hand into a fist and spring it open. "The Joker, of course." The card was clenched between his two fingers.

"The question remains," Loki explained. "Was it magic? Was it super-speed? Were they somehow placed there days ago? Or when you just entered the room? Are they even there at all?" He laughed, "Feel free to check later on; I wouldn't want you disrobing in front of everyone now." He motioned to the four women. "But the cards themselves were a misdirect; their intent was not to trick, but to uncover. They drew your attention, and through your subtle reactions it was so very easy for me to discern which of you," he pointed to the rest of the Peacemakers, "were most affected by them," he pointed to the four women.

Gigas reached back and removed a tiny slip of paper. It was a card, the ace of hearts.

"The ace of hearts?" Loki asked in feigned surprise. "But that was Lady Guinier's card. Why would you have--oh. Oh dear. Is it possible that Gigas and Guinier meet secretly in the night? You ask yourselves. Is that how the card got there? Mind you, I'm currently moving this trick along absurdly quickly for explanatory purposes. The card would otherwise have been planted much later after the card trick was but a memory.

"At this point perhaps Ivy confronts Guinier, which alerts Caradoc to the situation. A misunderstanding and a confrontation between Caradoc and Gigas has the possible consequences of removing two of your strongest from the playing field," Loki motioned to both Gigas and Caradoc. "Or perhaps you are able to resolve the situation peacefully. Yet the seeds of distrust still remain. But even that is not the trick. Making you distrust one another, while fortunate, is merely a bonus. Even the idea sown that I know you all better than you know yourselves is not the trick. The trick, my dear Peacemakers, is that while I have all of you so focused and attentive over here," he raised his left hand, and then he raised his right and pointed it at Kole. "Over here I have been weaving an entirely different series of events. And by the time you over there realize that you and these cards mean nothing to me, I have already taken what I want from him...so to speak."

Loki chuckled. "Forgive my long-winded explanation. In short, the trick is in involving you," he said. "It is in making you do what I want while all the while you believe your actions to be your own. You continue to question and wonder, to look from card to card and find their different meanings, to tie your emotions to your actions. And before you know it, your minds and bodies are no longer your own. They are mine. That, Peacemakers, is how the trickster plays his game."

"That was fun and all," Samael scoffed sarcastically. "And that card thing, I'll admit, was pretty good. I have three eyes and I didn't even see how you pulled that off. But how does this help us?"

"We are back to where we began," Loki smirked. "With the answer: do nothing. A trickster can perform no tricks is an empty room. Without an audience he is no longer a trickster, but a fool. But the trickster will always seek an audience. When he comes to you...that is when you act. If Mephisto truly desires to open the Inferno, he will not do so without you there to witness it."

Michael considered Loki's words carefully. He was struck most, however, by the chilling accuracy of Loki's abilities and the confidence with which he spoke of them, as if he truly understood Mephistopheles's mind. It was a sobering thought, and shone Loki in an entirely new light.

"Now, Michael," Loki smirked, as if he could sense Michael's thoughts, or read his mind. "Did you truly think Thor would hate me so much if I were not every bit as dangerous as he was powerful?"

To say Caradoc was unamused with Loki's 'lesson' on the nature of a trickster would have been, at best, a slight understatement.

To say Guinier was caught between being amazed at how he'd managed to slip the cards around the room, impressed with his intuition, and unamused again with the whole implications Loki had made was again, an understatement. Caradoc was quite plainly glaring at Loki as if he were trying to burn a hole through him, and Guinier just didn't look at the god, confused as she was.

"Amusing as that display was," Bedivere commented. "Doing nothing may just be worse. If we do nothing, we have no idea what he's doing. We have no way of preparing to counter his assets when we fight back. In short, while doing nothing prevents us being played like puppets, it also leaves us without knowledge of what he might send against us and how to deal with it. That's the one potential flaw with this strategy, that Mephistopheles may be able to get the help of something truly devastating which we'll be unprepared to fight."

"Were we prepared for half of what the Royal Knights and the Mikaboshi did?" Caradoc replied, stepping forwards and facing down the Slayerdramon. "Were we prepared to face the Chaos Lords? Were we ready to face the Mikaboshi when it evolved? No. Buyt we won regardless."

"And you're saying we didn't get by without luck? If Artorius hadn't given me the Black Sword," Caradoc was intuitive enough to notice the slight emphasis on the 'me', "then defeating the Mikaboshi wouldn't have been possible. Artorius gave me the sword because he knew, somehow, it was what was needed. That time, we at least had access to what we needed to win the battle, purely by chance and good fortune. It was fortunate Artorius gave me the sword, fortunate we were able to utilize opposing forces the way we could."

"So now you're debunking your proud triumph to dumb luck," Caradoc murmured, smiling slightly. "Regardless, we have that variety which lets us prevail. Because we are so different, we can act chaotically enough that our opponents can be unable to adapt. So we can deal with whatever Mephistopheles might hypothetically bring against us while we do... nothing."

"No... I don't," he said. "And it's not wrong to want to avoid that. If you were responsible for the deaths of thousands, you wouldn't want that again... no matter who ultimately destroyed the kingdom... when you know it's your own fault..."

"Weren't you listening?" Bedivere retorted, and rather than scorn, there was a steely tone in his voice, a leader's attempt to inspire. "Mephistopheles played us like puppets. He knew I'd go for him. He knew you'd try to be heroic at the Chess Kingdom. He knew you'd take a group, go there and try to do something. That PawnChessmon... the one who led us there. For all we know, he was sent by Mephistopheles as a lure to draw us in. He already knew you. He probably knows your past, your father." Caradoc's eyes narrowed slightly. "He knows how you want to be a hero for a hero's sake... and how you want to impress your father."

"I want nothing to do with that man," Caradoc spat out angrily, but he knew on some level it was true, why else would he have talked to his father, given a single word? The child in him still just wanted a 'well done, son', which he would never get.

"Really? So why are you trying to be a hero, Caradoc? There's something driving you. What is it?"

Caradoc turned away. "I don't have to share my thoughts with anyone."

"You're willing to share them with my sister." The reply was just as sharp.

"You know perfectly well that that is different, Bedivere." He glanced back at the Slayerdramon. "Or have the lines all blurred since you sat upon your lofty throne?"

"Don't do this," Guinier murmured, knowing full well he could hear her.

"What are you saying?" Bedivere replied somewhat chillingly, but he was shaken. Caradoc's words reminded him of how the Grace had burned him... was he truly found wanting?

"That since you took that title, your pride has blinded you. You chase Mephistopheles, you're cold to those you know as your friends, you turn away from those you'd once help... Bedivere, I understand what it's like to be under pressure to achieve. It doesn't mean you have to lash out at your allies." He turned away again. "Or have you forgotten already what I was like when we met?" There was a long pause.

"You were silent," Bedivere eventually said. "When you spoke..."

"You seemed afraid," Guinier picked up the sentence when her brother fell silent. "You were polite to everyone... everyone laughed. No-one knew why you'd even joined the army."

"I did the opposite," Caradoc said softly. "I did the opposite to what you're doing. I regressed. I was quiet, timid, even. And you know why?" He turned back again. "Because of what trying to appeal to my father ended up costing... I had a friend, who got hurt because I was so stubborn in trying to evolve to a Champion Level... I evolved, but only to protect them." He fell silent for a moment, before speaking again. "You're so outspoken and loud because you feel that in order to meet that pressure, you have to be the hero they see in you. You have to be able to slay the mastermind, the giant monstrosity, and because you want that so much, you focus on it. Everything else becomes... unimportant."

"You can't know..."

"You know damn well I know!" Caradoc exploded, breathing heavily for a few moments before speaking again. "You know because I told you. You know I know how it feels to be pressured into something so much you just would die to make it happen. I know how it feels, how nothing else seems to matter, and when you realize it does matter, you've already lost it all..." He bowed his head, recalling that friend... that innocent Salamon who'd just tried to help... "Don't go that far, Bedivere. Don't push us away when we will help you defeat Mephistopheles." There was another period of awkward silence.

Then Bedivere walked away. "You don't get it. All you fight for is one man... I fight with the expectations of the entire world."

"We're not so different... you just don't want to see it that way," Caradoc said, looking up at him. "You want to be a hero for the world. I want to be heroic because I want to do the right thing. In our own way, we fight to do the right thing."

"When you fight demons..." the Slayerdramon turned, "what is the 'right thing'? Was going to the Chess Kingdom the 'right thing'?"

Caradoc's eyes grew cold and hard. "I thought it was... I was wrong."

"Exactly," Bedivere pointed out. "The point to this is accepting that trying to do 'the right thing' might just be playing right along with what Mephistopheles wants. We have to be unpredictable to win. Otherwise, we may as well lay down our weapons and let him win."

"There are lines I don't cross." Caradoc's speech was a statement, a harsh, steely declaration. "Otherwise, how am I, or any of us, better than Mephistopheles?"

"And if not crossing the line is worse than crossing it, what then?" Bedivere countered. "We have to be ready to do what it takes."

"I won't make your decision... just know I won't cross the line," Caradoc said. "No matter the circumstances, there are lines I will not cross."

Scar stayed silent as he watched Gunnar slink away to the kitty cat named Hira. He had a grin on his face, however, and then turned back to Justin.

“Well, I can’t see how he thought I was wrong. I don’t remember saying to be unconfident or whatever, just to have some…tact,” he said, folding his arms and giving a short but audible laugh. He turned back to Justin. “And at least now I don’t have to tell ya lesson two or three or whatever number that was. Unless yah forget, a’course, then I’d be willin’ tah give ya my version of it.”

The ShadowWereGarurumon then made a long stretch, making his joints crack loudly, which would sound sickening to the queasy and soft-hearted, something he learned long ago (and sometimes used to his advantages just for the kicks).

“For now, I’ll just head off and get me some shut eye,” he told the SuperStarmon. “Another piece of advise that you don’t really need to pick up girls: get whatever rest you can get, ‘cause you never know when ya need it.”

He then gave Justin a quick salute and a large grin. “I’m sure we’ll all be needin’ it anyway.”

----------------------------------

"Yeah," he agreed. "Looks like there's more to him than meets the eye. There's a lot of us now with a little bit of darkness. Your girlfriend still has it, Kole, Guinier, Sha, Duo." He motioned to the aforementioned Digimon. :This group is a powder keg just waiting to explode. And it will. The question is: is there anything we can do about it?"

Azur frowned, turning to Samael. For one second, he wondered why in hell Samael would talk to him. They barely said any words to each other, if even any at all, during the Unholy Crusade. He regarded the fallen angel for a few seconds before deciding to give him a reply.

“Everyone who has light in them is capable of darkness. What happened to Pyra could easily have happened to me in the case of…him” He couldn’t find it in himself to say his name. “Could have happened to Galic. Tyr. Almost happened to Gigas.” He allowed a moment of silence before opening his mouth to continue.

“And the stronger the light, the blacker the darkness it can easily become. Take it from someone who’s supposed to be a god of light,” he told the Beelzemon, his voice thick with sarcasm as he said what he assumed would be Fenrir’s – or his, if he wanted to get technical – title.

“As for getting rid of it, you might as well find a way to bring the dead back to life for good with no strings attached,” he said, trying to imitate Fenrir’s matter of fact tone. Intimately knowing some of Fenrir’s beliefs had given him a chance to remodel his own while still being his own person. “Remember how we killed off the chaos? There’s gotta be two opposing forces at work. Take away the darkness, then you remove the capability of light. Besides, light shines brightest in the darkest of nights…or so Fenrir keeps on telling me. Just gotta make sure light is stronger.”

“And when it isn’t and that gets out of control, we do what we always do,” he answered Samael with the most level voice he could muster. “Tough it out and try to keep everyone alive.”

He then turned away, maybe to get greet Pyra a goodnight and then find some corner of clear night sky to see the stars…maybe get himself some rest for himself. After a few feet, he stopped and then turned his head slightly over his shoulder. For five seconds, it was like Fenrir was the one that was talking to Samael.

“Oh, and you’re one of those at the top of that list. Don’t forget that.”

----------------------------------

Cresil stayed in the shadows. He wouldn’t have left if Michael told him to leave; he knew the angel could sense him. It would make sense, since he wasn’t trying very hard to hide his presence. He didn’t even show himself when Michael went to walk away, most likely to rest himself. The Astamon knew he had a few words to say to the angel after hearing what the angel suggested that they would do.

To put it bluntly, he was having second thoughts about his plan on joining this little group of theirs. He was in no hurry to see his old “home” again, and by home, he meant the place that he never ever ever ever see again even if his life depended on it. Many demons would spend years trying to find a way out. It’s the number one priority of a vast majority of the demon populace in the Inferno. And Michael was crazy – no, insane and mentally challenged if he thought he would go along with his preposterous plan with a smile on his face.

----------------------------------

Anatolia

Azur growled lowly, his eyes glancing back and forth from Loki and Pyra. God or not, he swore that if he tried anything on the Paildramon, he was going to…do things that cannot be mentioned. Meanwhile, he kept a large paw on Shoon’s mouth to keep him from spouting what Azur just knew was a long string of amazed proclamations, praises and undoubtedly many, many questions. He’ll let the Mamemon X loose sooner or later. Preferably when he wasn’t as annoying.

His growl lowered and then he listened to Bedivere and Caradoc argue silently. The dynamic between them was new to him, and he wondered if it was new at all. He turned his head over when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Galic, who had been found, quickly informed of events, and invited to the Council meeting when they arrived, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze with his able hand and gestured for him to let go Shoon. The WereGarurumon grimaced and reluctantly did so.

Finally free from restraining holds, Shoon stretched and let out a happy whoop. He then turned to Loki, his eyes wide and his fists in front of him shaking excitedly. Just as he opened his mouth, Galic prodded him in the head.

“Not now, Shoon,” the MachGaogamon told him with a look. “Ask him those kinds of questions after the meeting is over,” he said, emphasizing the word ‘after’.

Galic then spoke to both Caradoc and Bedivere. His tone took a wise tone, a thing he had begun to take after speaking so many times with impressionable children that absorbed information like sponges. “And to both of you. I wish not to speak out of turn, but both of you need to get of your high horses.”

He turned to Caradoc. “It was not only a fault of your own. If not you, then Thor could also have easily lead you and the rest to the Chessmon Kingdom. You ask Bedivere to share the burden, and yet you say that the burden of death of an entire population is only yours to bear. The responsibility of the world of the living, as Bedivere says he has, is not quite so different from the responsibility to the dead. Do not be a hypycrite, Sir Caradoc. You are quite above that.”

And then he glanced at Bedivere. “And this is quite not the first time you, or a number of people in this room, have had the world in your hands, sir Bedivere. What makes this so different from the events six months ago? Yes, you carry a new title, and with the title, you also carry more responsibilities. But does that mean you should act so differently, when the task at hand only means for you to do act just as you were? Whether you are in the position of a leader or in that of the soldier, the want to protect is still the same.”

His eyes then unfocused for a few seconds. “And what were you protecting not so long ago? Were you fighting for the world back then as well? Or perhaps for someone you hold dear?” he questioned him. He then sighed. “Or have you gone so proud that you want to protect the image the people hold you in? Have you become so proud as to believe that you have to be that? Of the hero that is always right? Of the one that always keeps on doing what he believes is for the best of everyone? Have you become what we had fought so long ago?” he questioned more, remembering how adamant the Royal Knights were in saying that they were doing the right thing.

“And mayphap I have none the right to have said all of that, seeing as I regretfully no longer have a, ah, hands on participation in solving this dilemma, but both of you, and maybe to all the rest of you as well, need to remember that right and wrong, and the ways of the whole world we live in, isn’t as simple as black and white. The blurred line between the two is riddled with spots of grays, and many factors can cause the line to get even blurrier.”

Galic then shook his head. “Simply put, in our current situation, we cannot afford being at each other’s throats right now, more so if Mephistopheles is hoping for it. We cannot let the trust we have gained in each other to be broken. Loki here just showed us how easily it could happen,” he added, pointing to the Merukimon

“Ya gotta admit, though,” Scar cut in with a wide grin. “It was a cool trick. Mind if you teach me how to do that sometime?” he asked the mischievous god.

“Oh, oh, oh! Me too, me too!” Shoon pleaded, jumping in the air with his hands waving madly. Azur couldn’t help but shake his head at both in them.

“Tricks aside, we still have to think of a sound plan, and while I do believe your advice is quite sensible, Sir Loki, what if Mephistopheles doesn’t need any particular audience? Doing nothing may just as dangerous as trying to intercept and disrupt his plans. He could have as easily destroyed the Chessmon Kingdom, resurrected Nekron and defiled the old missionary well without their presence there.”

He then frowned. “Though…there is one particular event that could have been averted. Thor. Perhaps the angels know nothing of the reason, but perhaps you may have an inkling as to why, Loki? He is, after all, your brother.”

“And…um…if we can help him too,” Aeria’s voice sounded from one of the sides. She bit her lip when eyes were upon her, but she continued on. It just nagged at her so much. She didn’t want the others to fight the people they cared about. “I…really don’t want to fight him if I don’t have to…”

There are stories made from the imagination. There are stories born from experience.
There are stories told because of a need to be filled. There are stories that simply need to be told.This is one of them.

“Maybe there really is a method to his madness…or maybe he’s just plain insane."Chapter 3: Act III is out and posted!

Loki's rather long and theatrical point left several differing impressions on the Peacemakers. Pyra became rather flustered and insecure at Loki's implications. She made a mental note to check in private once their meeting was done.

Kheprius, on the other hand, was both amused and impressed by the previously laughable trickster. He couldn't deny the truths in what Loki said. Khep himself realized the flaws and weaknesses in the Peacemakers back during the crusade. When he had betrayed them, he had manipulated Tyr to his advantage. He knew that the diverse band of digimon would be easy to turn on one another, especially for a mastermind such as Mephistopheles. The GrandisKuwagamon recognized that he, himself, was not impervious to being toyed with, either. Sir Cador had proved that much. All that said, Khep still didn't like Loki very much. The god and bureaucrat aspect annoyed him and he didn't trust him at all. Those and other reasons bugged the bug. He cast a quick glance in a certain Paildramon's direction.

In contrast, Barachiel was unamused by the show, but he held his peace. He couldn't believe what Loki was suggesting, though he couldn't deny that he had to steel himself to keep from becoming somebody else's puppet.

Gunnar had much more simple things on his mind. He left the politics to others while he became more concerned with something else: namely, where on the four female digimon's bodies did Loki place the playing cards.

Tyr, however, stared long and hard at Loki, carefully trying to comprehend his lengthy explaination.

"...So does that mean you'll help us?" he asked, innocently oblivious while everything went clear over his head.

In near unison, Gunnar and Khep palmed their respective faces.

"The Brick Wall of Fire strikes again," murmured Gunnar.

"Surprise, surprise..." added Kheprius.

Barachiel waited patiently for Bedivere's and Caradoc's heated discussion to come to a close. Truth be told, he had to restrain himself from interjecting. As soon as they finished, he stepped forwards and turned towards Bedivere.

"Bedivere? I would appreciate if you did not bring up Caradoc's father in the future," he spoke steadily, staring at the Slayerdramon carefully. "I know for a fact that he does not like to talk about him, so I beseech you that you respect that in the future..."

With Barachiel's even, celestial voice, one couldn't tell whether he was warning Bedivere or merely suggesting. The TigerVespamon cast Caradoc a slight nod before looking at the trickster in front of them.

"I agree with Bedivere; we have to do what we need to to stop this guy," Khep said before the TigerVespamon could open his mouth.

"Of course he would say that," Barachiel thought to himself. "Even if that means a repeat of the Chess Kingdom?"

"Would you rather the world?" Khep answered.

"I would rather nobody but the ones behind this," he retorted resolutely.

He gave a slight bow of the head in Loki's direction. "I mean no disrespect when I say this, but I categorically refuse your suggestion," he spoke firmly, while managing to retain the politeness in his level voice. "I refuse to do nothing while Mephistopheles has Hadrael, my mentor, captive. We're wasting precious time just standing here. We have no time for arguing."

"Funny, now he says there's no time for arguing..." Khep deadpanned.

Barachiel ignored his brother. "Please, we have to help him. Whatever reason he has Father Hadrael, it isn't good. He could even be interrogating him for information about the Holy Host!"

Gunnar frowned and folded his arms as he listened to the TigerVespamon. "Barry, I want to get him back as much as you do, but we don't know where to start looking. We have no idea where Mephistopheles' base of operations is."

Khep nodded in agreement. "And we have to take into account that he could be expecting us to try and save your guardian angel. There's a high chance that we'd be falling right into that llama's trap."

"Actually, I think he's some sort of goat-clown-demon thing with a hilarious taste in clothing... Come to think of it, all demons I know have absolutely no fashion sense." Gunnar gestured to Samael. "Full leather and a weird helmet." He waved his hand towards a patch of shadows where he assumed Cresil might be lurking. "A non-descript animal head hat and a dusty old suit that looks like it came from the tamers' world and out of a time machine." Next he placed his hands behid his head. "And Goat-boy, with whatever the heck he has on his upperbody. I mean, striped sleeves? Or is that his skin? I can't tell."

"This is not a joke, Gunnar," Barachiel spoke with mild irritation showing in his tone. "I failed to protect him. It's my duty to save him. I don't care if it is a trap or if I have to go alone; I'll just have to fight my way through."

"That's ridiculous," Khep retorted, rubbing the area above his eye. "If you try that, you'll just end up that demon's prisoner too. He won't kill you, for whatever reason. He had his chance back when the mission was attacked. And if you ended up getting captured, then I-- we," Khep gestured to the other Peacemakers after his slip of the tongue. "will be forced to come after you, into another trap."

Pyra sighed and shook her head. "Don't you see? This is what Loki was talking about. We're turning on each other and Mephistopheles isn't even here!"

"So, what are we supposed to do about it? Trust falls?" Kheprius asked sarcastically. "Okay, Shoon, you catch Gigas. 3, 2, 1, Go."

Pyra cast the insect digimon an unamused look. "I'm not sure. I'm not entirely convinced that Mephistopheles won't continue breaking seals and opening the gates to hell without a captive audience. I also know that we can't abandon this Hadrael person, but at the same time, everything that we've done so far has failed. Maybe we do need a new approach... but what is the right one?"

Upon finishing her say, Pyra made her way over to Galic, greeting him with a warm nod. "Galic?" she whispered. "Can you and I talk once the meeting finishes?"

Tiwaz's voice rang out from Tyr's mouth. "Whatever we do, we should do it soon. Let it be known that I am for being pro-active, not just sitting around on our tails and twiddling our thumbs."

Khep decided to voice his opinion again, if only to put a boot in Tiwaz's suggestion. "If I can play the devil's advocate, mind the expression, we did come to this guy for advice. We're kind of up against the ropes here."

"So we're just supposed to sit here and wait while more kingdoms burn? Wait for how long? At what point do we stop and what then? Keep waiting and we'll have a front row seat of this demon-made, alleged 'apocalypse'. Then it will be too late," Tiwaz exclaimed, still through Tyr's VictoryGreymon form. "This plan reeks of Fenrir; I'm not going along with it."

"Tricks aside, we still have to think of a sound plan, and while I do believe your advice is quite sensible, Sir Loki, what if Mephistopheles doesn’t need any particular audience? Doing nothing may just as dangerous as trying to intercept and disrupt his plans. He could have as easily destroyed the Chessmon Kingdom, resurrected Nekron and defiled the old missionary well without their presence there."

"I thought you were smarter than this, Sir Galic," Loki said smugly. He folded his hands in front of his face and leaned back in his seat. "What would have been the purpose in destroying the Chess Kingdom and resurrecting Nekron if they were not there to witness these things? These are difficult seals to break; the level sorcery alone required to raise Nekron from the dead is astoundingly high. And then what? Would it serve Lucifer's purpose if this entire world was overrun with the undead? No, Peacemakers, Mephisto wanted you to stop Nekron. His success depended on it."

"And the Chess Kingdom? And Hadrael's Mission?" Michael asked.

"All for your benefit," Loki explained. "Why go through the difficulty of setting up the Red Queen, tricking her into ruling, gathering her people, subverting her reign, and forcing her to murder her children? There are easier ways to break a seal that involves killing 666 children." He looked to the others, noticing how Barachiel's face had contorted upon mention of Hadrael's name. "And the mission? There are literally hundreds of similar missions established across the entire Digital World. Do you think it coincidence that he chose that one?"

Loki watched as the Peacemakers descended into their various interpersonal squabbles. It was a small wonder Mephistopheles had even this much trouble with them. Turning them against one another was as simple as asking what time it was; as soon as one answered there were five others with different variations of the exact same idea. Loki smirked and shook his head; they were all just asking for a trickster to come in and take advantage of it.

"If you're all quite done proving my point for me," Loki began. "I'd like to point out that even should you choose to ignore my rather-invaluable advice, you still possess no means of accurately predicting, procuring, or preventing Mephisto's advances."

"Then what can we do?" Michael growled, equally frustrated with the god's advice. "Doing 'nothing' is not a feasible option. Too many will suffer if we do."

Loki rubbed his brow and groaned in frustration. "I cannot believe how dense the lot of you are. I was told that some of you were supposed to be cunning and creative," he said, shaking his head. "You're more bull-headed than my brothers. You really need me to spell it out for you?" He sighed. "Nothing does not literally mean 'nothing' as in let the world end, you idiots. If trying to stop Mephisto from breaking seals only leads to more seals being broken then you should stop stopping him and start..." He trailed off, hoping someone would answer.

"...Helping him?" Samael asked cautiously, after several moments of silence from the rest of the Peacemakers.

Loki growled in frustration. "It is a miracle you all managed to last as long as you have," Loki snapped. "In what universe does helping him hurt him? You're lucky I'm not your enemy or you'd be destroyed purely by the weight of your own incompetence. No, now you should focus instead on fixing what Mephisto has broken."

"Fix the seals?" Samael asked. "Can that be done?"

"Anything can be done," Loki answered. "If one is willing to do it."

"Six-hundred angels gave their lives to power the ancient magics that created those seals...magics that have been lost for centuries," Michael pointed out.

"Yes, if only you had a powerful sorcerer at your disposal." He turned to Artemis. "Do you know any great wielders of magic, my lady?" he asked mockingly.

"The seals require a sacrifice," Michael growled.

"You cannot spare 66 angels?" Loki asked. "All of them are so important?"

"I will not send my angels to be the fuel for your nightmare sorcery," Michael retorted bitterly.

"No, but you would gladly send them to their deaths in pointless battle to try and keep the seals unbroken--and fail," Loki shot back. "At least my methods offer results. We fix the seals Mephisto has already broken, and keep a vigil for the next ones; as he breaks a seal we will be there to reseal it. And Mephistopheles will never be able to open the Inferno. That is your only option at this point, Peacemakers."

"I hate to say it, Mikey, but as crazy as the sh*t he's spewin' is, it kinda makes sense," Samael muttered. "I mean...we ain't havin' much luck the way we've been doing things."

"And what of our comrades, Thor and Hadrael?" Michael said. He wasn't about to acquiesce to Loki's plan, but there were other details to be concerned with as well.

"There is little we can do for them," Loki answered. "Thor may very well have to be killed to stop; attempting to free him and Hadrael could be disastrous indeed."

"We can scarcely leave them to their fates," Galic pointed out.

"No, you're right," Loki said with a roll of his eyes. "Nothing would please Thor more than watching helplessly as the creature controlling his body slaughters the lot of you. And I'm sure if I were in Hadrael's position I would surely want you to jeopardize the safety of the world on the off chance that I might live to see it destroyed." Loki shook his head, astounded with their perceived idiocy. "Of course I would not be so stupid as to ever be in Hadrael's current position, but that is another matter entirely.

"The point is, Peacemakers," he continued. "At best, attempting to free them leaves some of you dead. At worst it leaves some of you dead and breaks several more seals. Either way, these are not exactly desirable options."

When Gigas drew the ace of hearts from behind his wing, he looked very perplexed. The HerculesKabuterimon cast a confused glance in Ivy's direction and then looked timidly at Caradoc. Shrugging, Gigas said timidly, "I have no idea how that got there, honest!"

Nocchi stood next to the massive insect, tapping his chin and pondering Loki's words. The trickster brought up good points. Great points, in fact. Nocchi's eyes narrowed. "So we just do nothing, right? And by 'nothing,' you don't actually mean 'nothing.' So really, we're doing something...and by doing that something, we're doing nothing. And doing nothing is good, because it means Mephisty can't do anything."

Nocchi elbowed the Shawjamon in the thigh. "No, no, no! We're not gonna be pretending to do nothing! We're actually going to be doing nothing! And by that, we'll be doing something! Something bad to Philly-boy!"

"And then we win!" Sha exclaimed, nodding vigorously.

"Right," Nocchi said, folding his arms over his chest and looking expectantly at the Peacemakers around him (who, in actuality, weren't paying any attention to him). "Then we win."

"By pretending to do nothing!" Sha continued, plopping down on the ground with his legs crossed. "Come on, Nocchi! Pretend to do nothing with me!"

Khep grinned as Gigas pulled the ace of hearts card from his wings. "Hey, Gig! It looks like you've captured Loki's heart," he said with a chuckle.

"All for your benefit," Loki explained. "Why go through the difficulty of setting up the Red Queen, tricking her into ruling, gathering her people, subverting her reign, and forcing her to murder her children? There are easier ways to break a seal that involves killing 666 children." He looked to the others, noticing how Barachiel's face had contorted upon mention of Hadrael's name. "And the mission? There are literally hundreds of similar missions established across the entire Digital World. Do you think it coincidence that he chose that one?"

Barachiel's expression turned into a mixture of a glower and a grimace as he listened to Loki. "You mean to say that he attacked Hadrael's mission just to toy with me?!" he asked as though demanding an answer. "It's because of me that Hadrael's been captured and my brothers are dead?!"

"It was Mephistopheles' fault, not yours, Barry," Gunnar insisted bitterly, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. "He's the cause for all of this. Him and his breed..."

Kheprius thought about Loki's suggestion very carefully. It wasn't pretty, but it seemed like the only feasible one that they had. He figured that they had to do what they had to do...

The GrandisKuwagamon turned in Michael's direction. "Well, how about it? If this fixing the broken seals thing is our only option, then we pretty much have to do it, right? Sure it's at the cost of sixty-six angels, but..."

"You can't be serious," Barachiel protested. "These are lives we're talking about. And what gives us the right to make such a decision?"

"Hey, it's not like we have to force them to do it. Mike can just ask for volunteers. Aren't you religious sort the types to jump at the chance to be self-sacrificing and meet your alleged maker?" Kheprius said.

"It's better to have morals than none at all," the TigerVespamon replied cooly.

"When the world's at stake? I wonder..." he retorted. "Anyways, six hundred angels were sacrificed to make these seals in the first place, for the purpose of confining the Demon Lords. This is the same thing. Is sacrificing sixty-six angels who would gladly give their lives to put down the Demon Lords that despicible?"

Pyra looked between Michael and Loki. "Is it sixty-six angels per seal? Or altogether?"

Tyr looked at the Paildramon in shock. "Are you considering this, Pyra?" he asked, aghast that even someone like Pyra could be humouring the idea.

"I'm not sure, Tyr. I just want to have all the information. In any case, the choice is up to Michael and the potential angels involved..." she answered, not liking what the situation has come to.

Barachiel sneered and turned his back to Loki as he walked back to the others. "My position on this remains the same," he said. "Hadrael wouldn't want this..." The celesial insect cast a look over his shoulder towards the Merukimon. "You may have a point about Hadrael not wanting us to come after him, but I refuse to accept that solution and resign him to his fate. And mind what you say about Hadrael next time, Council Member," he calmly warned.

Barachiel was now trying to make it a point to keep his anger in check. It wasn't easy, given what happened, but he knew he had to damper it; Hadrael told him many times that anger only leads to pain and destruction. He would try his best.

The Puppetmon looked indignant. "What?! Preposterous! I never over-think things!"

Gunnar grinned and glanced over to the Puppetmon. "Heh, I'll say..." he jested. The ShineGreymon then turned to Sha. "And I don't think that's what Loki meant by 'do nothing', Froggy. His definition of doing nothing isn't actually doing nothing, it's doing something, but that something involves not intervening in Mephistopheles' plans."

"It's so confusing," Tyr mumbled, holding his head.

"This is the problem," Barachiel said. "All we're doing is fixing the already broken seals, isn't it? This doesn't stop Mephistopheles from hurting more people. It's true that there's some seals that he wouldn't be able to break a second time, but there's some he could break again... and there's six hundred seals to choose from. We need finality. And we need to free Thor and Hadrael. With the book of prophecy gone, Hadrael may be one of the few that can forecast what seals Mephistopheles will break next."

"Yeah, except for the fact that he has more underlings than we do Peacemakers," Khep replied matter-of-factly. "We need every advantage we can get, so that's why we should do this magic seal thing. Then, while Mephistopheles is reeling from his 'perfect' plan being shattered, we can focus on saving Hadrael and Thor and maybe Svarog if I'm in a good mood..." The black insect looked at Michael. "Well, Mikey? How badly do you want to stop the apocalypse?"

Galic ignored Loki's jibe at his intelligence. He was not one to be easily swayed by insults and his emotions. As he glanced to the others, he realized that it was a trait that a good number of the rest needed to learn. Observing his former apprentice Azur, he noticed that he was not exempt. The WereGarurumon had tense muscles and gritted teeth, which showed him just how much he was trying to keep himself in line. He mentally wondered if it had more to do with Tiwaz’s sudden comparison of Loki and Fenrir than Loki’s actual plan. He hoped that he could hold out for a while longer; they didn’t need another round of bantering to start again.

“Forgive me, and mayhap this is a wrong request at such a dire time, but may I suggest we take a break to think about this?”

He turned to Loki. “I understand the circumstances and the direction you are taking them. The plan of action you have said, I trust, has been made with every angle and possibility looked at thoroughly.”

“Oh, oh, but I have a question!” Shoon said from beside Galic, raising his hand as if he were a student in a classroom. “What if the Mephisto guy has a back-up plan for that too? I mean, if he’s so smart, doesn’t that mean he has a lot of plans for things that can go wrong?”

‘Unless he’s an arrogant b****** that thinks he only needs one,’ Azur thought, rolling his eyes. He didn’t know a lot of demons, but if they were any indication, then it was possible.

“And how do we know he’ll only stop at sixty six? For all we know, he might break more just cuz he feels like it,” Shoon added.

“In any case, I can guarantee that for Michael to simply sacrifice his people, willing or otherwise, is not an easy decision, and for the others to simply stand by and watch Mephistopheles do his deeds, even if they were to try and fix it afterwards…simply put, I highly doubt that most would go along with it.”

“Plus…the idea of having to fight and kill our own comrades…the ones that we relied and trusted to watch our backs and keep us alive, and to whom trusted us to do the same to them. If that isn’t something to think about, then I don’t know what is.”

Aeria bit her lip. Did they really need to think about it at all? She hated the idea to the core, even if it were a plan that they desperately needed to do.

Snapping out of his reverie, he turned to everyone else. “Unless all of you can unanimously agree, right here and right now, that you will all go along or disagree wholeheartedly with this. And I mean all of you.”

Galic stopped for a moment, sighing when he realized he might have opened another window for them to start arguing. He continued speaking before any them started to escalate any further.

“Now then!” he called out with a ‘Howling Blaster’ enhanced voice, a thing he hadn’t used in quite a long time. He turned to Bedivere, giving him back some of the authority that he thought he might have lost.

“Please, at least an hour for everyone to cool their heads and think rationally,” he asked the Slayerdramon, and then turned to Michael, asking the same thing with his eyes. He then glanced at the rest. “Because while we may have somehow gotten by during those six months ago…we can’t do that anymore. If Mephistopheles is hoping for all of you to do exactly as your independent characters tells you to, then simply put, all of you need to prepare yourselves to do exactly the opposite…or decide if your natures are far wilder than Mephisto can predict.”

He then gave a sigh, and if one listened hard enough, one would hear a slight tone of defeat. “Mayhap some of you would think that I’m apathetic and indifferent to consider Loki’s plan, which I do admit is, while efficient, uncaring for those explicitly involved. But the options we have are limited, and sometimes we must do as we must. Sometimes, we are forced to do the things we dread to do. It was certainly no problem for the angels of past to sacrifice their lives, and mayhap they were comforted at the thought that they were doing it for the greater good of the world, if not the greatest. If any of you were told that the way to save the world was to give up your life, what would you say? And ask yourself if you’d let someone else take that very risk and accept it. Are you being hypocritical? There are so many things that we can do, but not all of them are efficient or even likely to succeed.”

He then looked into each of their eyes. “So I ask you the things that perhaps all of you need to think about. Are any of you willing to risk not only your own but also the lives of the Digimon that stand with you in this room? As well as that of the whole world? And at what cost, if any at all? Are any of you so high that you think that any plan of yours might go so well that you might achieve no deaths- nay, less deaths, for I fear more will be certainly lost – than the ones Loki has asked in his plan?” Then his eyes took a strange look, almost a questioning one. “Do you have that much confidence in your abilities that you think you can succeed in saving everyone with a path you think is better? Would that be pride? Or faith? Do you believe? And would that pride, that faith or belief, be enough?” he asked, finally turning away and back to Loki.

‘Personally, I think I would do just that,’ he told himself mentally. ‘But seeing as I no longer have an active part in this new war, methinks I shall keep that to myself.’

Scar, for once, kept silent. He wasn’t at all for Loki’s plan at all. He knew if he opened his mouth, he’d just get on someone’s nerves. Azur pretty much did the same, but for a different reason. He was gonna start a fight if he did.

There are stories made from the imagination. There are stories born from experience.
There are stories told because of a need to be filled. There are stories that simply need to be told.This is one of them.

“Maybe there really is a method to his madness…or maybe he’s just plain insane."Chapter 3: Act III is out and posted!

"Simply put, dear Shoon," Loki began. "It is not in Mephisto's best interests to continue breaking seals after the first 66 are broken. His goal is to open the Inferno and release Lucifer, yes? Once the Inferno is open then he must break through the various levels to reach the ninth circle where Lucifer resides. That is his goal; he would not waste more time breaking unnecessary seals." Loki looked to Michael, waiting to see if he would correct him. "Lucifer is not a being of chaos, my friends. He does not thrive on further turmoil and anarchy. No. He is a being of complete and totalitarian order."

Michael nodded his head in agreement. "He's right, but to simply count Mephistopheles out after 66 broken seals." He shook his head. "That is unwise. All the same, I cannot ask my people to sacrifice their very lives for this, not without knowing for sure that they will be unable to break again."

"Mikey, what other option do we have?" Samael asked, in a rare display of concern. "If Lucy gets out they're all gonna die anyway...or end up like me. And that's a fate even worse than death."

"I know," Michael sighed, looking sadly to Samael. Most of the time the fallen angel's rough exterior did well to hide the pain and sorrow he felt; but sometimes it shone through. Samael's misery stemmed from his fall. "I just need...I need more time to think."

"Time is something you do not have, Hand of God," Loki said. "But why not? Take your time, Peacemakers. Indulge the wavering needles of your moral compasses, and when you are confident in your next steps, let me know. I, in the meanwhile, will figure out just what spells need be cast should you call on me. Until then do nothing, lest you inadvertently break more seals and require the deaths of even more angels." Loki took a mock-bow. "Loki is ever at your service." And then he was gone, blinked away.

"Peacemakers, get some rest," Michael advised, his brow furrowed. He spoke only because he must; he needed quiet and peace to meditate on the decision that weighed on him. "Gather your strength and your courage, and steel yourself for what might come next. For the moment we do as Loki has advised--perhaps for the next day or so--we do...nothing. See if his assumptions on the nature of Mephistopheles are correct. Perhaps he will come to us, and we can end it now."

Samael watched Michael leave and a frown turned his features. He didn't like the situation any more than Michael did; he was just better at not showing it. Asking more angels to die for their inability certainly didn't reflect well on them. They were--for all intents and purposes--failing in their duty to stop Mephistopheles, and failing meant no forgiveness.

"So, Khep," Samael said. "Bar? Booze? Drowned sorrows? Shall we try to find some? How about everyone else." He turned to the rest of the group. "I think we could all use a good drink right about now, eh? C'mon, Thor's buying."

=====

The angels cried out in agony as Mephistopheles's soldiers cut a swath through them. They were no match for the unrelenting power of the Horsemen and his deal-enhanced warriors. Around them the burning scent of a broken seal filled the air. Mephistopheles watched the slaughter with disinterest.

"Strange that they did not come," he mused. "Three more seals broken and nothing from them. I was expecting more."

"Perhaps they were unaware of these seals," Dracula offered, licking the blood from his fingers.

"They are not here to witness my triumph!" Mephistopheles snapped, wheeling about. "They are not here to witness these breaking seals, or to break along with them! With the Peacemakers strong and together there is the chance that they might be able to fight back even if Lord Lucifer is freed. They must be broken themselves; they must be utterly and completely without hope."

Mephistopheles growled low, angered by these events. "We must find them," he decided. "Find seals that will force them out and draw them in. Find seals that are near to them. And they must know it. Dracula, find them."

"So, Khep," Samael said. "Bar? Booze? Drowned sorrows? Shall we try to find some? How about everyone else." He turned to the rest of the group. "I think we could all use a good drink right about now, eh? C'mon, Thor's buying."

Kheprius nodded and walked over to the fallen angel with a grin on his face. "That's the first good idea I heard all day. Who would've thought?" he joked, covering his grim interior. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of Barachiel, who was still looking worse for wear, understandably. He couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "...Hey, Terrak! You coming?"

Barachiel glanced up at him, slightly surprised by the offer, but his expression remained neutral. "...I respectfully decline."

"Surprise, surprise..." Khep muttered. He lightly elbowed Samael to get his attention. "And he used to be the rebellious one."

The GrandisKuwagamon then looked in the direction of Gigas. "Hey, Gig! What about you? You still haven't had an actual bachelor party! You can bring Nocchi and Sha too, if you want. And maybe Ivy... I wouldn't object to having a pretty girl nearby." Khep then turned back to Samael. "Anyways, our vice of choice is waiting. Towards our booze-filled future!" He then walked outside the council chambers, following Samael's lead to the nearest bar.

"I'm with them," Gunnar said to Tyr, gesturing over his shoulder using his thumb. "I'll be sitting far away from them, but you know what I mean. Come on, it's about time you let me take you to your first bar."

"I pretty much grew up in a bar," Tyr said, frowning a little. "Technically. You know, Dad's?"

"Irregardless!" Gunnar insisted, not taking no for an answer. "I'm going to look around for Sig, Dhaz and Ulik too. They might be off duty. You wouldn't say 'no' to your best friend would you? I am your best friend, aren't I, Tyr? Ever since we were rookies?"

Tyr sighed in defeat. He hated when Gunnar played that card. "Okay, Gunnar... I'll meet you down there, I promise. Can I just do something first?"

Gunnar gave him a thumbs up and left the VictoryGreymon to walk towards the door that Khep and Samael left through. Meanwhile, Tyr felt his control over his VictoryGreymon form leaving. He knew that it was Tiwaz taking control of his form. Unlike in the Crusade, Tyr didn't resist. He trusted Tiwaz completely and this was easier than having to Ancient Evolve to AncientGreymon everytime Tiwaz wanted to say something (which was often).

Tiwaz walked over to Bedivere and placed his hand on the Slayerdramon's armoured shoulder. "Stormheart... or is it 'Lord of the Empty Seat' now? You and I need to discuss some things, leader-to-leader." The VictoryGreymon pulled him off to the side of the council hall. He then stopped and looked into Bedivere's eyes, glaring.

"So, Bedivere... Caradoc told me that you basically abandoned the Chess Kingdom to destruction in favour of chasing after the demon. I admit, our mission to the Chess Kingdom ended up... horribly, and we were given misleading information, but you didn't know that at the time." Tiwaz's (technically Tyr's) green eyes narrowed. "Why would a hero like yourself abandon a kingdom's cry for help? Did you think they weren't worth it? Or maybe that new title of yours has something to do with it... Does a new moniker mean you're too good to help those beneath you?" he growled.

"Michael I can understand brushing this aside; he's emotionally invested in this mission, but you? Is that what the hero who stood up against three Diaboromon would do? Is that what your predecessor, Artorius, would have done? Obviously you have forgotten what it means to be a hero. Perhaps you need a reminder beaten into you. We have a duty, Bedivere, as heroes and as leaders to do what's right. As it stands now, you don't have the right to lead the others," Tiwaz fierily rebuked, having no problem with dragging Bedivere over the coals.

"Come to think of it, I need to keep an eye on Michael as well. We can't afford to let his emotions get the best of him," the VictoryGreymon muttered.

-

Gunnar strutted down the council chamber hallway in the direction that Khep and Samael went, looking for the bar. He was planning to make a detour though. He was excited to get a hold of Sigurd, Dhazbog and Ulik, close friends of his and Tyr's. With them around, Gunnar was hoping to have a 'welcome home' party for Tyr at the pub, complete with beer and bar food. Maybe if he was lucky, he might meet a hot girl there too, though Gunnar wasn't giving up on Aeria, either.

As he walked, he noticed Justin and Hira walking away from the same place be left from. The ShineGreymon stopped, outstretched his wings and turned around in a more over-the-top way than was really needed. "Yo, Shades! Stripes! I'm getting some friends together at the bar. D'you guys want to join us?"

Gunnar then blinked and looked at Justin. "Wait a second... Do you even have a mouth? I know you can talk and stuff, but where the heck is it?!"

-

Barachiel limped towards the exit of the council hall. Though Ivy's healing helped him greatly, his body still ached from the brutal attack he sustained last night. He made his way over to Caradoc and Guinier and greeted them both with a nod.

"I can't say I'm happy about Michael's decision to wait... We can't afford to stay here and do nothing while Mephistopheles uses this time to perfect his plan. I admit, I'm having to restrain myself from going after him alone," he spoke calmly. "I'm not exactly sure how we're supposed to pass the time..."

He then looked at Caradoc specifically, with a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm sorry for intervening in your and Bedivere's argument. It was not my place to say anything. Still though... it's hard to imagine that you and him used to be friends."

-

Pyra almost sighed in relief when she heard Michael say that they were going to wait a day or so before acting again. While she wasn't thrilled about the plan of waiting for Mephistopheles to come to them, she did know that they all needed a break after the tolling last couple of days. On top of that, there were some things that she wanted to do while in Anatolia.

She looked in Azur's direction. A part of her wanted to go over to him first and give him a vague idea of what she was doing, but she didn't want to arouse suspicion. If she did that, he might follow her, and with his trained hearing, if he overheard her conversation, that would be very bad. Pyra didn't want to chance it, so instead she walked over to Galic.

The Paildramon faced him and smiled. She outstretched her arm and shook the hand of his good arm. "It's nice to see you again, Galic. Would it be okay if you and me talked somewhere more private?" she asked.

Pyra then led him out of the council hall and into the courtyard. She looked around to make sure that nobody else was around. Ever since the Peacemakers destroyed Amatsu-Mikaboshi, they had become something of celebrities, and Pyra wanted to avoid their discussion coming up in gossip. She stopped and turned to face Galic, offering him a smile.

"Sorry it's been so long since we last talked. For the past several weeks, the Anatolian military has been keeping us busy," she explained. Her expression changed to a worried frown. "Galic, you remember what we talked about the last time we met? About Maximus...?"

She grimaced and turned her red eyes down slightly. "...I haven't told Azur yet. For the whole month I spent with him, I didn't tell him. I couldn't bring myself to. I know I shouldn't keep a secret as big as this from him, but how could I tell Azur that Max is alive? Under normal circumstances, it would have been easy to let him know and he would have been ecstatic for me. But after Dunk's death..." she cringed and trailed off. "If I did, it would seem like I was rubbing it in his face. 'Hi, Azur! Guess what? I found out that Max has actually been alive all along! Isn't that great? Hey, what about your brother?' ...I couldn't do that to him," she said somberly.

"He did all these things for me, from comforting me after I thought Max died, to trying to get through to me when I was in 'that' form... Sure, he may be thrilled for me at first, but then there would be a small part of him that will envy me. And then that envy would turn into resentment. Why is my brother alive and his isn't? How is that fair? Why does he have to be the only one who's miserable?" Pyra questioned rhetorically. She sighed and looked back up at Galic's face. "I don't know what to do about this, Galic."

-

Kheprius sat on a barstool next to Samael with a large, frosty ale in hand. The beer was 'Hymir's Finest', which apparently continued its production and remained quite popular, it seemed. Despite the rumours of Mephistopheles' actions, the whole bar was booming with digimon and joviality.

The black insect raised his mug and glanced over at the Beelzemon. "Well, Sammy... Bottoms up!" With that, he downed the entire drink. "Drunken stupor, here I come."

After hailing the bartender for a refill, he looked over at the Fallen One. "Cripes, angels are petty, aren't they?" he said. "I mean, you already helped us kill the Chaos Lords, right? What's it gonna take for you to get your wings back? I got back on everybody's 'okay' books when I walked in front of Evil-Pyra's cannon and accidentally took a blast for Tyr... maybe you should try that. After writing a will and leaving me your shotguns, of course."

Kheprius downed another mouthful of beer. "I tell ya, though, that Vritra girl could use a drink. Whitefang, too. And Michael and Terrak... Hell, over half of us need to down a few and take the sticks out."

It was then that Khep remembered something Samael said earlier during the meeting. "Does it really suck that much being you? In my experience, there's only one thing I know that's worse than death. ...Crap, did I kill the mood again? That means we need more drinks. Barkeep!"

(Griff, just a quick correction, it was Diaboromon, not Armageddemon. Bedivere would've been curbstomped by three of those things.)

"So, Bedivere... Caradoc told me that you basically abandoned the Chess Kingdom to destruction in favour of chasing after the demon. I admit, our mission to the Chess Kingdom ended up... horribly, and we were given misleading information, but you didn't know that at the time." Tiwaz's (technically Tyr's) green eyes narrowed. "Why would a hero like yourself abandon a kingdom's cry for help? Did you think they weren't worth it? Or maybe that new title of yours has something to do with it... Does a new moniker mean you're too good to help those beneath you?" he growled.

"Michael I can understand brushing this aside; he's emotionally invested in this mission, but you? Is that what the hero who stood up against three Armageddemon would do? Is that what your predecessor, Artorius, would have done? Obviously you have forgotten what it means to be a hero. Perhaps you need a reminder beaten into you. We have a duty, Bedivere, as heroes and as leaders to do what's right. As it stands now, you don't have the right to lead the others," Tiwaz fierily rebuked, having no problem with dragging Bedivere over the coals.

"Tell me, Tiwaz," Bedivere retorted fierily, knowing it was Tiwaz, Tyr would never voice such words. "Did you ever feel the weight of the world on your shoulders? Did you ever know it was you the eyes of the earth looked on as salvation? Or did you just act as a hero for selfish self-gratification?" He paused, letting his words sink in. "I'm not like you. I'm not like I once was. Times have changed and they've changed me too. The Chess Kingdom was one small kingdom in the grip of anarchy, whereas Mephisopheles will tear down the earth if we give him the chance to break those seals and free the demon lords. For all I knew, intervening against Balthory would have made things worse. At best it would have cost valuable time. At worst it might have broken seals... which you might want to recall was exactly the result." He paused again.

"Next time, Tiwaz," he turned away, "don't think I'm a hero. I'm not. I was, once. But these days... I can't afford to carry on as a hero. Things have gotten too big for me to charge in blindly wherever I hear evil might be. Doing so is too risky. As for doing what's right," he glanced back and fixed the VictoryGreymon with a harsh glare, "stopping Mephistopheles is what's right. And it has to take precendence over all else until he is dealt with. Any other aims of 'right' only leave us open to exactly the kind of misdirection which caused you all to gallivant into the Chess Kingdom. And look at how that ended." With that, he strode away, not eager to waste more time talking with Tiwaz...

-

"It's alright," Caradoc nodded to Barachiel. "You're my friend. Don't feel ashamed to back me up if you feel like it needs to happen." His expression soured as he regarded the last comment.

"It's only now things have changed so much we've broken that friendship," Caradoc finished. "I know. But he needs to focus less on that demon, and more on not tearing the lot of us apart himself. He's too fixated on Mephistopheles. That's why he's doing all of this."

"How can you tell?"

"Because I was the same... wanting something too much," he replied. "My atonement... my family's atonement. I shut the world out because of it... for years and years I kept myself focused on a goal I didn't even think I could achieve. And now I have, and it doesn't seem worth it..." He stopped talking, thinking, before looking at Barachiel.

"If you want to go after Hadrael... you're not alone," he said softly. "I'll come with you..."

The Paildramon faced him and smiled. She outstretched her arm and shook the hand of his good arm. "It's nice to see you again, Galic. Would it be okay if you and me talked somewhere more private?" she asked.

“But of course, Lady Pyra,” Galic replied with a respective nod. “I’m always free to be a listening ear, as you should very well know.”

He began to follow her outside, but before doing so, he heard his name being whispered every so quietly that he had strain himself to hear it with only one ear. He glanced to the direction that he thought he heard it, and then he saw Azur looking at his direction. It seems that Pyra wasn’t quite as secretive as she might have wanted herself to be.

The MachGaogamon gave his former apprentice a question in the form of a slight tilt of his head and twist of ear. Azur’s reply was a thin line on his lips. He wasn’t sure. Galic couldn’t really tell him not to listen, seeing as he did it all the time due to his enhanced hearing. Galic turned back to Pyra, giving Azur the free will to do as he wished, although Galic’s better conscience told him that he should be telling Azur not to listen, as per Pyra’s wishes.

Without a single word, Galic followed Pyra to the outer courtyards. He watched in mild amusement and with a tiny hint of a smile as she looked around in caution before. Any trace of it disappeared the moment he spotted a figure, a silhouette, on the far side of the top of one of the towers. His nose told him enough as to who it was.

‘I need to remind Azur to remember to keep himself downwind if he wants to perfect the ability to hide one’s presence, he mentally noted as Pyra turned to him, seemingly not noticing their audience of one.

"Sorry it's been so long since we last talked. For the past several weeks, the Anatolian military has been keeping us busy," she explained. Her expression changed to a worried frown.

“Need not you fret, Pyra. It would have been…difficult, to entertain you as well as the children that have come to find my home as a playground at the same time,” he replied in a light tone. “Now, while enjoyable, I find it hard to believe that you brought me here for simple pleasantries. May I ask what is trouble you?”

"Galic, you remember what we talked about the last time we met? About Maximus...?"

One of Galic’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise. “Of course I do. That’s not something I can easily forget.”

And then Galic’s eyes glanced, for but a second, at seeing motion where he had seen Azur hiding. The WereGarurumon surprised him by suddenly moving away, his scent weakening as he did so, telling Galic that he very well left the premise…or at least far enough that the former Peacemaker’s senses of sight and smell couldn’t detect him.

She grimaced and turned her red eyes down slightly. "...I haven't told Azur yet. For the whole month I spent with him, I didn't tell him. I couldn't bring myself to. I know I shouldn't keep a secret as big as this from him, but how could I tell Azur that Max is alive? Under normal circumstances, it would have been easy to let him know and he would have been ecstatic for me. But after Dunk's death..." she cringed and trailed off. "If I did, it would seem like I was rubbing it in his face. 'Hi, Azur! Guess what? I found out that Max has actually been alive all along! Isn't that great? Hey, what about your brother?' ...I couldn't do that to him," she said somberly.

"He did all these things for me, from comforting me after I thought Max died, to trying to get through to me when I was in 'that' form... Sure, he may be thrilled for me at first, but then there would be a small part of him that will envy me. And then that envy would turn into resentment. Why is my brother alive and his isn't? How is that fair? Why does he have to be the only one who's miserable?" Pyra questioned rhetorically. She sighed and looked back up at Galic's face. "I don't know what to do about this, Galic."

Galic raised his good hand to his chin, and he regarded Pyra and her problem in silence for a few, probably nerve-wracking, seconds. He dropped his head and then gave the Paildramon a questioning look.

“Are you quite so sure of that?” he asked her. “You sound so sure that Azur will grow to hate you, or even dislike you, if he knew that. Do you have so little faith in him?” he continued to ask, but his voice was neither harsh nor stern. He was simply asking a question and looking for an answer.

Galic then looked up. “Even if your worry has valid grounds – for even I could tell that whatever he believes, his heart still misses Dunkelheit, as I do as well – I’d like to give my former apprentice a bit more credit than that. While it is true that it would certainly be wrong to, ah, rub it in his face, I do believe that he has the capability of being happy for you. Because Azur knows what festering dark emotions can do to a person…just as you do,” he told her as he turned back with a smile, almost a sad and melancholic one.

He then took one of her hands in his own. “But what’s more important…is that you should trust him. A good relationship has its foundations in that. He will need you, Pyra, because I still think he’s still coming to terms with it himself. Because right now, you are the best person to bring him back should he fall into his own darkness.”

He let her hand fall back down as he gave her a fatherly smile that he had so frequently used for six months. “I’m not telling you to tell him now, but you need to reestablish the bond that binds both of you together and keep it strong. When the world is on your shoulders, when everyone is expecting you to do something as great as save the world, you need to have someone who you can trust to watch your back…and to hold your hand during the worst of it. I’m betting my good arm and ear that Azur sees that in you for him…his rock in the storm, so to speak.”

He then gave her a bow, using his good arm to keep his useless one from tilting downwards, and then turned back up. “Have a little faith in him. He may surprise you; he has done a lot of it to me over the years.”

“I bid you good eve, Lady Pyra. If you wish to speak more, then I’ll be in the outskirts of town in the nomad settlement. Just follow the sounds of laughing children,” he told her as he turned to leave.

------------------------------------------------------

Inside one of the castle rooms, Azur leaned against the cool, stone wall in silence. He looked outside a nearby open window, trying to lose himself in the number of bright stars that were beginning to appear. He tried to keep himself from thinking too much, knowing that it wouldn’t lead him anywhere useful or productive. But the idea of Pyra wanting to talk to Galic instead of him still nagged at him greatly.

‘Did something happen while I was gone?’ he had to wonder. ‘What about Maximus?’ he added in his head.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he did eavesdrop on Pyra and Galic, but only for a few seconds. The moment he heard Pyra mention his name, about not telling him something, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to continue listening. It meant that it was something very important to her, and probably him as well. The possibilities in his mind were endless.

He knocked the flatside of his head with his palm, trying to stop the onslaught of thoughts that was beginning to give him a headache.

For some reason, he didn’t like the idea. He wanted to confront her, ask her what was wrong and to say it to his face. But he knew that if he were in her position, he would want to tell her in his own time. That didn’t stop the frustration, however, and he slammed his fist against the concrete that he leaned against.

“What did the wall ever do to you?” a voice suddenly asked, causing Azur to stand straight in attention. He was positive that there was no one else in the room with him.

From the shadow of the nearest corner, Azur spotted the Astamon’s body enter. The demon turned to Azur with a polite-looking smile and outstretched his hand. “Please, call me Cresil. Or Cres.”

The WereGarurumon glared at him, and Cresil retracted his hand with an indifferent shrug. “What do you want?” Azur asked, straight to the point.

Cresil waved a hand in the air. “Oh, nothing really. I was just minding my own business when I noticed you all on your lonesome,” he said flippantly. “So sad that you couldn’t be with your lady friend instead of good Galic, no?”

Azur replied with a low and dangerous growl.

“Now, now, no need to be hostile,” Cresil told Azur with a grin and started to walk towards one of the chairs and sat down with the grace of an aristocrat. Azur didn’t let his eyes off of him for a millisecond. “It’s not my fault she prefers his company and council over yours, so don’t take your anger out on me.”

“Then leave,” Azur commanded. He didn’t need this.

“Oh, but don’t you want to know what they were talking about?” Cresil suddenly asked and giving Azur an innocent smile. “You might not have listened in when you had the chance, but I’m afraid I’m not quite as good-hearted,” he said, which was quite an understatement.

“AWAY WITH YOU BEFORE I RUN YOU THROUGH WITH MY SWORD!” Azur yelled, his agitation at its peak.

Cresil smiled slyly, and neither the two moved for some seconds. The room was almost silent, the only sounds being the whooshing of wind and Azur’s deep breaths. And then Cresil stood.

“Very well then, Assur,” he said, emphasizing the first syllable and making sure that Azur heard him. “But do know that your little lady has been keeping a rather big secret from you.”

Azur was just about to grab Cresil’s neck before someone knocked on the door behind him. He turned back at the wooden door for a second in reflex before looking back, only to find the Astamon gone, leaving no trace that he was ever in the room other than Azur’s heated emotions.

The WereGarurumon let out a frustrated grunt and turned back to the door. He grit his teeth and willed his anger to subside, if only a little. He wished that Fenrir was around to tell him what to do to calm himself down; they usually worked. He then approached the door and pulled it open quicker and gruffer than he had meant to.

He sighed in annoyance when he found a largely grinning ShadowWereGarurumon waiting outside. “What is it, Scharlach?”

“Come on, let’s hit the bars! We never got the chance to when we came here the first time. I hear there’s a place owned by some guy named Hymir that sells the best drink you can get for miles away!” Scar told him, hands on his hips.

Azur’s reply was more of a lack of it. Scar rolled his eyes at the bland stare that pretty much told him that he could do whatever he wanted as long as he kept Azur out of it. “Geeze, cuz, you really need to loosen up! Maybe that’s why your girl-“

“You will say nothing more if you value your manhood,” Azur cut him off, his voice laced with the seriousness of his threat.

Scar shut up and zipped his mouth, and then he gave Azur a smile. He knew when to stop pushing, and he had scars and bruises to remind him…although he noted that this was one of the more extreme threats he had ever heard from him.

“Good. Now leave me alone,” Azur told him before slamming the door in his face.

As soon as the door shut, Azur turned backwards, closed his eyes, leaned against door, let the cold wood cool his back, and slid against it into a sitting position. As soon as he found himself as comfortable as possible, he opened his eyes. He found himself staring back at the window where the stars began to shine brighter.

He scowled when a single dark cloud began to cover the expanse of the night sky.

------------------------------------------------------

Scar had to step backwards quickly before the door that Azur slammed into his face literally slammed into it.

“Yeesh, a simple no would have been enough,” Scar said, folding his arms in mock anger. He then raised them into the air for a few seconds before sighing. “Now who’s gonna be my drinking buddy?” he asked no one in particular as he started to walk down the hallway to get outside.

“I guess I could find that Sha guy. He seemed like a lot of fun,” he thought out loud. “I wonder how good he can hold his liquor. I bet he’s more fun than a barrel of monkeys if I can get him drunk enough. And if we’re both drunk, then I can’t see the problem in that!”

With the goal of trying to find Sha in mind, he started to jog. He slowed down when he noticed someone else walking down the hall towards him. He hoped it was the Shawjamon; it would have saved him a lot of time. That hope was dashed when he found it to be a Paildramon, and it took him a few seconds to recognize her.

“Hey, Pyra, right?” he asked as he stopped in front of her. “Guess your done with ole Galic, huh?” he asked lightheartedly.

“I gotta tell ya, you really got a catch with my cousin Zur,” he said, chuckling. “He’s so dang silent, and when he’s not, he’s downright moody. Maybe you can get him to chill out, yeah?” Scar then pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

“Hey, if you can, maybe you two can join us over at the bar! Pretty sure a good lot of everyone went there. Everyone needs some time to relax, right? Or drown their sorrows, or whatever, but I’m going to have some fun! Hope tah see ya there, pretty girl,” he said, winking before moving past her and continuing his jog down the hall in hopes to find Sha.

After ten minutes of searching however, Scharlach was getting tired of his fruitless search. “Maybe I should’ve listened for sounds of crashing and whining. He’s always around that Gigas and Nocchi guy, from what I remember,” he noted to himself and shook his head. He started off to the exit, deciding that he’d just find someone to hang with in the bar.

He halted in his tracks when he saw someone sitting on a nearby bench, looking a bit lost. “Why, hello there,” he said as walked towards the person, recognizing her as one of the Peacemakers. The WarGreymon.

Aeria raised her head in surprise. “Um…are you talking to me?” she asked in a meek voice.

“A’course I am,” Scar replied, sitting beside her. “There ain’t no one else ‘round here that I can see. Can you?”

Aeria shook her head slowly, looking uncomfortable.

“The name’s Scharlach. I’m one of you guys. Well, for now, anyway,” he told her, leaning back on the bench. “What’s your name?”

“I’m…Aeria,” she replied, tugging at her long hair that fell down her neck.

“That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl,” he told her, half flirting and half stating a fact. Aeria bit her lip and looked away timidly, much to Scar’s disappointment. He hoped for a shy smile.

“You’re looking a bit down under the weather. Anything wrong?” he asked, looking at her closely and giving her a small, friendly smile.

“You don’t sound alright to me,” the ShadowWereGarurumon said with a raised eyebrow. Aeria didn’t think she would have believed it either. And then she saw a glint appear in Scar’s eyes.

“I know! How ‘bout you come with me to one of the taverns? Loosen up?” he asked, standing up. “Come on, it’ll be fun!” he told her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up.

“W-wait! I don’t think-“

“Trust me! It can’t be that bad,” he said as he already started to drag her to the pub that he heard about. “And we won’t be alone there. I hear some of the others are already there!”

Aeria didn’t have it in her to tell the ShadowWereGarurumon no. He was too optimistic and happy. Plus, he spoke so much that he didn’t give her a chance to even tell him that she didn’t feel like going.

------------------------------------------------------

Aeria sighed and leaned against the wall of the bar. Only a few minutes, and the ShadowWereGarurumon that brought her there had somehow disappeared in the sea of bodies. She hadn’t meant to look away for too long; she had been distracted by the dancers on a nearby stage.

She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to make herself look smaller and try not to draw any attention. She didn’t feel comfortable at all in the pub.

“I should have told him that I really didn’t want to come here,” she muttered to herself as she looked for the entrance, which she had lost some time after entering. It was all so loud and rowdy at first that she had gotten a bit muddled.

She began to look for someone she knew, hoping that she could hang onto that person just until she could find the exit and get out…and maybe find a place to hide for a while so that she wouldn’t have to go through it again.

She wondered who in their right mind would want to go to a bar like this.

------------------------------------------------------

“But I wanna go to a bar like that!” Shoon exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

“And as I’ve said before, you are still too young,” Galic said a matter of factly, dragging Shoon by his sashes using his good hand. He had found the Mamemon X sneaking about and confronted the young Digimon…which led to Shoon shouting out what he “wasn’t going to do and their current situation. “Until you’re eighteen, I’m not letting you in there.”

“But I know other people that went inside way before they turned eighteen!” Shoon complained, trying to escape in vain. “It’s unfair that they get to do that and I can’t! And I’m even a lot better than they are!”

“Don’t get a big head, Shoon,” he told the Mamemon X. “You still have a lot to learn, and if you are to continue your journey tomorrow, then you need to have a clear head and rested body. Plus, you can’t expect the world to treat you fairly just because you’ve been good; that’s like not expecting a bull to charge at you just because you’re vegetarian.”

“But-“

“No buts, Shoon. You’re coming back with me, and you’re going to rest. And I’m going to make sure that you do.”

Galic continued to counter every excuse and reason Shoon could come up with and drag him towards his house. Even after getting inside his home, he still had to keep Shoon from trying to sneak out, something which he already had a lot of experience doing.

He had to smile, though. Shoon was definitely determined and persistent, if not stubborn and hard-headed.

There are stories made from the imagination. There are stories born from experience.
There are stories told because of a need to be filled. There are stories that simply need to be told.This is one of them.

“Maybe there really is a method to his madness…or maybe he’s just plain insane."Chapter 3: Act III is out and posted!

"Cripes, angels are petty, aren't they?" he said. "I mean, you already helped us kill the Chaos Lords, right? What's it gonna take for you to get your wings back? I got back on everybody's 'okay' books when I walked in front of Evil-Pyra's cannon and accidentally took a blast for Tyr... maybe you should try that. After writing a will and leaving me your shotguns, of course."

"I got wings already," Samael muttered, staring at the amber liquid in front of him. "I got wings and a cannon and claws. And I've been to Paradise since the Fall, and I've made as nice as I could. But, Kheppy...sometimes you do things that can't be forgiven no matter how nice you make. No matter what you do, there are some things that are just unforgivable."

"I tell ya, though, that Vritra girl could use a drink. Whitefang, too. And Michael and Terrak... Hell, over half of us need to down a few and take the sticks out."

Samael scoffed and down half the glass. "You really want to see what they're all like drunk?" he asked. "Not everyone gets all loose and happy like yours truly. Some just get violent and belligerent. You think I wanna see Vritra drunk? This is the same goddess that makes Svarog look reasonable...and I'm taking into account the fact that he's now a Horseman of the Apocalypse."

He looked around, his eyes landing on Azur. "Is that who you mean by Whitefang? Really? Him too?" Samael laughed and finished his drink. "That guy's got so many issues about that voice in his head, and his dead brother, and his girlfriend who ain't exactly here." He motioned to the bar floor, where Pyra was nowhere in sight. "He'd be such a sad, sappy drunk. And Mikey..." Samael smirked. "He used to be pretty fun. Before the whole Lucifer and Rebellion thing Mikey was," Samael shrugged, "just a regular dude. Didn't know him too well back then, he was higher ranking, but he had a few good jokes and knew some pretty classy ladies. But I guess once your little brother tries to overthrow God it kinda throws a damper on things. Certainly makes family reunions tricky."

Samael laughed at his joke and went back to the drink the bartender had just placed in front of him. "Can't say much about Terrak, or Barachiel...whatever. Seems too 'woe is me' to have a good time. No guarantees that booze would make that better."

"Does it really suck that much being you? In my experience, there's only one thing I know that's worse than death. ...Crap, did I kill the mood again? That means we need more drinks. Barkeep!"

"There's a whole lot worse than death, Kheppy," Samael said, throwing back another drink. "Life, for one. Lives like ours, at least. Beaten half to death on almost a daily basis, killing with no end in sight. I mean...don't get me wrong, I love it. But you can't tell me death is any worse than living in damnation. Why do you think the angels hurled the demons into the Inferno instead of killing them? Death sets you free, Kheppy-boy. Life is where you suffer."

=====

Michael watched as Bedivere turned and walked away from Tiwaz. This wasn't good; neither of them was in the right frame of mind to be giving or receiving advice at the moment. Bedivere was filled with pride, wrath, and envy. Perhaps it was Michael's role in leading the Peacemakers, or his frustration realizing that the world cannot be fixed that made him lash out. Or perhaps the bleed-over from the Inferno was slowly making its way into all of the Peacemakers.

Tiwaz was another story. The long-dead ancient was returned to life through his descendent, but had not acquired any semblance of tact or reserve. If anything, he had shown nothing more than a sense of entitlement and self-importance. Perhaps it was his godly nature that defined this part of him. He was from an older generation of gods than Thor and Svarog; he lived during a time of great prosperity and power in the godly kingdoms. Then again, it seemed that Fenrir had the same sort of concerns. Perhaps Tiwaz was simply Tiwaz.

Either way, it was not helping. Michael recognized this in the way the Peacemakers had diverged after the last meeting with Loki. While several had gone to the nearest tavern, they had not all done so together. Others were keeping secrets from one another.

"And that demon sneaking around certainly doesn't help things," Michael growled under his breath. He steeled himself and floated down from the sky to land beside Bedivere. "Have you given thought to what I said before?" he asked. "I fear that is what all this may come to in the end. And you and I must be prepared."

=====

Dracula materialized before Mephistopheles amidst a swarm of bats. He wore a knowing smirk as the hoofed and red-eyed demon demanded his findings without a word. Dracula's eyes lingered on Hadrael, bound in chains; battered and bruised, but otherwise unharmed...for the moment.

The vampire king licked his lips.

"Take your mind from food," Mephistopheles scolded with a snap. "What have you learned?"

"Hmm?" Dracula wondered absently, his eyes still on Hadrael. "Ah yes. The Peacemakers have returned to Anatolia. There are many rumors as to why." He stood and walked over to the captured angel. "Some say they have given up."

"Hah," Mephistopheles laughed sarcastically. "Not a chance."

"I agree," Dracula mused. He ran his finger across Hadrael's blood-stained cheek. "That is why I had my source look deeper." He licked his fingers clean of the congealing blood and smirked down at Hadrael with cold, hungry eyes.

"Tepes!" Mephistopheles snarled. "I have no time for this. What did you learn?"

"There are rumors that they have met with Loki," Dracula said, turning from Hadrael and striding back towards the center of the room. "They believe that he is the greatest trickster in all the world, and that through him they might defeat you."

"Perhaps we should show them otherwise," Mephistopheles mused. "I wonder what seals lie beneath Anatolia. What say you, Lord Tepes? Should we pay them a visit?"

Hira turned his head and looked at Gunnar, not really wanting to go to the bar. Heck, he didn't even really like any of the Peacemakers, but still going and getting a drink did sound like it could be nice and relaxing.

"Fine I will go with you," started the Mihiramon, "But if you as much as annoy me too much, I will rip your throat out."

---------

With everyone leaving Kole looked around for Tia, the Bastemon having seemingly disappeared.

Tia watched Kole from a distance, she had to get away from him. Just looking at the Piedmon yelling at himself was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She turned away and took a deep breath, just being around Kole now was starting to be too hard, especially since she knew that there was something in him, something that did not sit too well with her.

"I will help you Kole," murmured Tia, "But I don't know if I can do it on my own."

Are you interested in joining a new and upcoming Pokemon RPG? Are you interesting in adventuring through a ruinous Kanjohto, slowly putting itself back together piece by piece? If so, feel free to join Wild Future today! (Unfortunately registration is required to see the forums)

"Nyehhh," Nocchi sighed, trudging down the streets of Anatolia. Everywhere he turned, a larger Digimon would nearly stomp on him. He had just sidestepped to avoid the foot of a passing Tyrannomon when he ran into the legs of a tall, lanky figure bargaining with a merchant selling goods.

With a grunt, Nocchi plopped onto his backside. He shot the tall figure an angry gaze and was about to shout something at the guy when he recognized Sha. The Shawjamon glanced down at his Puppetmon-friend and grinned. Scooping the marionette up in both hands, Sha thrust Nocchi in the Lampmon-merchant's face.

"Here!" Sha exclaimed. "I'll give you this guy for it!"

The Lampmon folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. "Sorry, kid. No can do." He leaned in to sniff Nocchi, and then muttered, "Besides, he smells like he hasn't bathed in...forever."

Nocchi raised his hammer and shouted, "I'm made of wood, ding-dong! Water'll make me rot!"

"Nocchi, you're not very good at this bargaining-thing," Sha said, dropping the Puppetmon back on the ground. "You're supposed to make yourself sound appealing. And the guy's right. You do stink. You really should take a bath."

"Nyaaaaah! Shaddup, Sha," Nocchi growled, shouldering his hammer and marching off in a huff. The Shawjamon sighed and followed after the Puppetmon.

Nocchi rolled his eyes and walked around two bickering Monzaemon. With a shrug, he replied, "How the heck should I know? They're married now, so they're probably off doing something married people do."

==========

A bead of sweat ran down Ivy's forehead as she lay on her back. She grunted, struggling against the heavy weight that hung over her. With a groan, she released everything she had, tightening her muscles as best she could.

"That's it, Ivy! Just a little more!" came Gigas' low voice.

The Lilymon, with one final burst of strength, raised the barbell high in the air and set it back in its place on the makeshift weight-lifting-bench Gigas had put together. The HerculesKabuterimon helped her off the bench and clapped.

"Way to go!" he said, grinning. "Keep lifting like that, and you'll be as strong as me!"

Ivy smiled. "Won't that be something?"

==========

Nocchi and Sha shoved their way into the bar, pushing through a large crowd of Digimon in the process. The Puppetmon went immediately to the counter and climbed onto a stool, while Sha quickly disappeared among the tavern-goers.

It was among these tavern-goers that he found Aeria, standing off by herself. The Shawjamon approached her, a wide smile on his face. "Hiya! You're that girl WarGreymon, right? Eeria, or something like that? Huh, I never knew there was such a thing as a girl WarGreymon. You learn something new every day, I guess."

Sha could tell she felt uncomfortable in the bar, so he stood next to her and continued, "What brings ya here? You don't look like you're the type to come to this kinda place. To be honest, I don't actually come to places like this often...last time, I got so drunk I went Leviamon and nearly ate the bartender! Cha-haw!"

"Tell me, Tiwaz," Bedivere retorted fierily, knowing it was Tiwaz, Tyr would never voice such words. "Did you ever feel the weight of the world on your shoulders? Did you ever know it was you the eyes of the earth looked on as salvation? Or did you just act as a hero for selfish self-gratification?"

A fire flashed behind Tiwaz's angry eyes as he heard Bedivere's response. "I have, as a matter of fact..." he said sternly, almost coldly. Tiwaz remembered. He heard Milleniummon's roar. The shouts of his dying comrades echoed around in his mind from when the Great Ten were reduced to a mere two. He could hear the primal roars of the five Dexmon that he, alone, faced. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, trying to put them out of his mind.

When he opened them again he found himself locked in a heated glare with Bedivere. "There's a difference, though... you're not alone. The world is looking at all of us. Are you so arrogant to believe that you're the only one with responsibilities? And believe it or not, but I don't do what I do to inflate my ego, I do it because I should," he told him firmly. "I don't disagree that we need to kill Mephistopheles, but where's the line, Bedivere? What things will you do in order to stop him? And by then, will it really be for the people of the world? Or will it be for yourself?"

Tiwaz let out a low growl from his throat as Bedivere turned and walked away. "Right then, you crooked-scaled, selfish, inferior excuse for a horn-faced newt," Tiwaz scolded. "I won't rely on you, not that you would do much good anyways. I will tell you one thing, though, you can still rely on me. That's because I haven't given up my duty."

With that, Tiwaz ended his tongue-lashing and proceeded to shoulder Tyr's Dramon Breaker. He turned his head and saw Michael looking at the two and flying down to stand beside Bedivere. Tiwaz shook his head discouragingly. "He shouldn't bother; Bedivere's as stubborn as I am," Tiwaz said to both himself and Tyr.

"Tiwaz?" Tyr asked.

Tiwaz nodded. "I'll relinquish the form to you know. Let's go and meet with your friends.

Tyr felt the sensation of his body returning to him. He awkwardly sped past Bedivere while muttering a quick 'sorry' as he overtook him. The VictoryGreymon then turned and walked into the hallway.

"Tyr, there's no need to apologize for me," Tiwaz told him.

"Sorry..."

-

"Fine I will go with you," started the Mihiramon, "But if you as much as annoy me too much, I will rip your throat out."

Gunnar smirked as he heard the tiger Deva's threat. "That wouldn't be the first time somebody told me that," he said with a chuckle. "Cool. I'll meet you guys there. I just need to get my other friends first."

He offered them a hearty thumbs up and bolted down the hallway to find the other Greymon.

The TigerVespamon folded his arms and thought. More than anything, he wanted to save Hadrael, but there were a few things holding him back. The biggest being that they had no idea where to look. He also didn't want to get Caradoc into trouble, although he did offer...

"Before we do anything too rash, perhaps we should scout around to try and find where he might be holding him. If we can do that, then we'll, most likely, have also found his base of operations. It's then that we can devise a plan of action. Though intolerable, Kheprius is right about one thing; if we're too reckless, then we might be the ones who will need saving," Barachiel said.

The holy knight trained his eyes on Caradoc carefully, trying to read his reaction. "There is a risk that goes along with even just scouting. Are you sure you want to help me? I won't be offended if you want to back out," he told him. He then looked at Guinier. "And are you okay with Caradoc coming with me?"

-

“Are you quite so sure of that?” he asked her. “You sound so sure that Azur will grow to hate you, or even dislike you, if he knew that. Do you have so little faith in him?” he continued to ask, but his voice was neither harsh nor stern. He was simply asking a question and looking for an answer.

Galic then looked up. “Even if your worry has valid grounds – for even I could tell that whatever he believes, his heart still misses Dunkelheit, as I do as well – I’d like to give my former apprentice a bit more credit than that. While it is true that it would certainly be wrong to, ah, rub it in his face, I do believe that he has the capability of being happy for you. Because Azur knows what festering dark emotions can do to a person…just as you do,” he told her as he turned back with a smile, almost a sad and melancholic one.

Pyra stifled a grimace as her memories resurfaced. "It's true, I don't know for sure that he'll resent me, but I also know how easy it is for somebody to envy without meaning to. It's usually best to prepare for the worst outcome. I guess I'm still a little cynical from the Crusade... but I suppose that's not all that surprising," she admitted.

The Paildramon listened carefully to the rest of what Galic had to say. She knew he spoke the truth. She also knew that Azur would find out eventually, so it would be better if she told him. It wasn't going to be easy for her though...

Before he turned to leave, she took a step closer and gave him the briefest of hugs. That Paildramon then took a step back and nodded. "And just 'Pyra' is fine," she said a slight grin. "Goodnight, Galic."

Pyra then turned around and walked back inside, hoping to find her lupine boyfriend. Upon stepping into the council room, she found that Azur had since left, seeing that Bedivere, Michael and a few of the Council members were the only ones still inside. "I wonder where his room is," she mused, walking out and turning down the hallway. After looking around, Pyra turned down a side corridor and saw a BlackWereGarurumon walking towards her.

“Hey, Pyra, right?” he asked as he stopped in front of her. “Guess your done with ole Galic, huh?” he asked lightheartedly.

“I gotta tell ya, you really got a catch with my cousin Zur,” he said, chuckling. “He’s so dang silent, and when he’s not, he’s downright moody. Maybe you can get him to chill out, yeah?” Scar then pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

"Yes... 'Scharlach', isn't it? So you're Azur's cousin?" she asked, remembering seeing the wolf digimon hanging around with Azur a lot since the groups reunited. She grinned a little bit at his lightheated jests. "...I'll see what I can do."

“Hey, if you can, maybe you two can join us over at the bar! Pretty sure a good lot of everyone went there. Everyone needs some time to relax, right? Or drown their sorrows, or whatever, but I’m going to have some fun! Hope tah see ya there, pretty girl,” he said, winking before moving past her and continuing his jog down the hall in hopes to find Sha.

Pyra tried her best to refrain from blushing at his flirting. She was happy that Scar was at least more subtle than Svarog was. "It's hard to believe those two are related..." The dragon like figure then strode in the direction Scar pointed, towards a nearby door.

She stopped in front of it and nervously brought her hand close to the handle. Her hand then dropped as she became torn upon whether to enter or not. Should she really tell him? Pyra took a deep inhale and steeled herself. "Azur?" she asked, attempting to open the door, but finding that something was blocking it from the inside. "Are you in there?"

Pyra then felt the weight against the door move and found that she was able to open it. The Paildramon stepped inside and saw Azur in front of her. "Hi, Azur," she greeted with a light smile. "It looks like we finally have some time to catch up."

Although she was happy to see him, the smile she wore was false, in massive part due to the secret that she was seriously considering telling him. The facial expression soon faded. "Actually, Azur... There's something I need to talk to you about..." she admitted.

She took a step closer to him, clasping his belt-donning right hand with both of hers. Pyra took in a deep breath. "I..." She closed her eyes, waiting several seconds as she contemplated what to say.

"...remembered what you said about Fenrir and I want to know what happened," she finished, opening her eyes to form a grimace. Pyra mentally berated and swore at herself for failing to go through with her confession.

Her mind raced and after the failed attempt, she wanted to move the topic away from herself as quickly as possible. "Afterwards, how about we go to the bar with Scharlach and the others? Or we could even stay here."

-

"I got wings already," Samael muttered, staring at the amber liquid in front of him. "I got wings and a cannon and claws. And I've been to Paradise since the Fall, and I've made as nice as I could. But, Kheppy...sometimes you do things that can't be forgiven no matter how nice you make. No matter what you do, there are some things that are just unforgivable."

"Looks like you and my bro agree on something," Khep said, half-joking and half-grim. "And if that's the case, why are you here sitting beside me? Y'know, as a Peacemaker? If you're so unforgivable, why put yourself through all this?" he asked, not immediately realizing the hypocrisy in his own words.

"I've murdered in cold blood... and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. I've done many things... but here I am, somehow forgiven. If this world was at all just or fair, I should have died when Pyra shot me. It would have been damn ironic too... What makes you that much more despicable?" he asked before finishing off his fourth glass. "And hell, Mikey seems to have forgiven you, and he's one of the toughest angels around."

Kheprius listened to Samael's observations on what the previously listed Peacemakers would be like inebriated. "Yeah, I guess you have a point. And seriously? Michael used to be fun? I'll believe that when Tyr sells his Royal Knights merchandise," Khep said with a laugh. "Though I wonder how somebody can overthrow what isn't there... shadow boxing?"

"As for Terrak, your guess is as good as mine. Probably not, actually. As he so gleefully pointed out, I don't know anything about him, apparently. Pft, he can go after Hadrael and get himself killed for all I care," Khep spat between drinks. Despite what he said, he knew the truth was that he didn't actually mean it.

"There's a whole lot worse than death, Kheppy," Samael said, throwing back another drink. "Life, for one. Lives like ours, at least. Beaten half to death on almost a daily basis, killing with no end in sight. I mean...don't get me wrong, I love it. But you can't tell me death is any worse than living in damnation. Why do you think the angels hurled the demons into the Inferno instead of killing them? Death sets you free, Kheppy-boy. Life is where you suffer."

"Heh," Khep snickered while hailing the bartender. "Makes me wonder why I tried so frigging hard to stay alive all these years. I guess we have a different definition of 'free'. Or maybe it's the mercenary's selfishness in me. You should have met my mercenary buddies though, Sammy. They were fun... you know, up until the backstabbing. Hey, speaking of backstabbing, I don't suppose you still have any buddies in the Inferno that we might find an ally in if worse comes to worse. Or all they all still livid from when you started knockin' on heaven's door with their secrets?"

"What kind of line can we draw?" Bedivere snapped. "We're fighting a demon, Tiwaz. But we're fighting no demon we've ever fought before. Mephistopheles is a new breed. If we try and hold ourselves back it only makes things worse. Sometimes there can be no lines. Sometimes, you have to cross the line to do what must be done."

He paused. "You say I'm not alone, Tiwaz, but what do you know of me? You shared your responsibility. I stand alone. I can understand now why Artorius did what he did... because he let himself crack under the pressure and it turned Constantine's warning into something far worse... a prophecy of the end. And so he started the Crusade. There's a reason the title is Lord of the Empty Seat, Tiwaz... the seat is empty because only one can fill it. Only one bears that responsibility, and Artorius saw fit to make me his successor, the Council saw fit to knight me so. You bore your responsibility and title with nine others. I bear mine alone."

He turned away. "It's best not to rely on those who bear this pressure... that at last Artorius showed me." He glanced back. "I'm glad you're wise enough to accept that, Tiwaz." Then the dragon-man left, presumably changing back to Tyr, as shown by the meek apology. "Don't apologize... it's not your misunderstanding. It's his." Then the VictoryGreymon left, only to be replaced by Michael.

"If we must invade Hell to stop Mephistopheles, so be it," Bedivere answered in turn to the angel. "We shall show them the might and resolve that cast Amatsu-Mikaboshi from this world..."

-

"This isn't something you need to thank me for," Caradoc replied softly. "This is something a good friend does. Besides... I'm not going to let another innocent suffer at that demon's hand after the Chess Kingdom... I won't fail again." He paused, listening as Barachiel gave a plan. "I agree. That's the most sensible option... slow, but sensible. It'll be the two of us, alone, against the best part of his forces."

"Three." His head snapped round, fixing on Guinier as she spoke. "I'm coming with you."

"Guinier..."

"No!" she snapped, and there was some of her brother's fire in her tone. "I want to stop Mephistopheles as much as you do. I want to help Barachiel as much as you do. So let me. Let me fight with you, instead of pushing me back because you want to protect me from it all. I'm as much a soldier as you are. Let me be a soldier." She brushed her fingers across his cheek. "I want to help you both. Because, Caradoc, I love you. I can see how much this means to you and I want to help you do it."

He looked into her eyes, and saw the steely resolve there, the will to fight. "Yes. We'll save him... the three of us, together. We'll save Hadrael." He turned back to Barachiel. "We both know the risk, and we both will fight with you regardless."

"Looks like you and my bro agree on something. And if that's the case, why are you here sitting beside me? Y'know, as a Peacemaker? If you're so unforgivable, why put yourself through all this?"

"What else am I supposed to do, bake cookies?" Samael quipped. "It's either drown in my own misery and wallow in self-despair or try to make something of myself. Just 'cus I know it's hopeless don't mean I ain't hopin' it's not."

"I've murdered in cold blood... and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. I've done many things... but here I am, somehow forgiven. If this world was at all just or fair, I should have died when Pyra shot me. It would have been damn ironic too... What makes you that much more despicable?"

Samael sighed and downed his drink. He stared into the empty glass; he didn't really want to get into this line of conversation, but Khep was probably the only one who'd understand. The rest saw him as 'Samael the killer, Samael the venom of God'. They couldn't understand.

"There's worse things than killin', Kheppy," Samael muttered. "Back then killing was the most merciful thing I could've done, and I held off a long time before doin' it." He swirled his newly-refilled drink. "I let some of 'em live, that's the worst part. And I still hear her screaming. And I hear them laughing, especially that one b*tch." He shook his head violently to chase away the sickness. "But damn, Lilith was hot. One look and I'd do anything she asked."

"And hell, Mikey seems to have forgiven you, and he's one of the toughest angels around."

"Ain't like Michael's perfect though," Samael said, glad to change the subject. "And he'd be the first to admit it, too. He and Lucifer were close back then, like Dunk and Azur were. When you love your brother like that, and he just turns against everything you believe, how can you not doubt?"

"Though I wonder how somebody can overthrow what isn't there... shadow boxing?"

Samael chuckled a little; Khep's continued denial of anything divine or godly was more amusing than insulting. To Samael it was like trying to deny the sun, or gravity, or wind.

"I can't believe that after all we've been through you still can't accept the possibility of 'God'," he made some air-quotes with his fingers. "We're fightin' demons who want to get the devil loose from Hell, we killed the physical manifestation of freakin' Nothingness, and hang out with thousands year old gods. After all that you've got trouble accepting that some sort of...whatever God is...really exists? You think you've figured out something 100 million angels haven't? Who's kiddin' who, buddy?"

Their conversation continued to travel on the downhill-depressing path; from Barachiel's assertions that Khep didn't know him to whether or not life and death mattered. IT certainly didn't help the mood, and Samael realized that soon they'd be a pair of depressed and morbid drunks.

"Hey, speaking of backstabbing, I don't suppose you still have any buddies in the Inferno that we might find an ally in if worse comes to worse. Or all they all still livid from when you started knockin' on heaven's door with their secrets?"

"It ain't likely," Samael muttered, throwing back a shot of something fierce. He didn't exactly remember ordering it, though he supposed he must have. "Moloch was okay. Lilith and I definitely had some good times. But after you help throw your old buddies into pure damnation it sort of puts a damper on things, you know?"

He leaned back and hailed the bartender for a few more drinks. "Speakin' of putting a damper on things, what'dya say we stop doin' just that? This is gettin' unfreakin'believably depressing." He looked around to the rest of the Peacemakers and bar-goers. "What'dya say we start a fight or somethin'?"

=====

"This is not something to take lightly," Michael said, turning to the dragon knight. "None have ever ventured willingly into the Inferno before. And then only a handful of those within have ever escaped. To rely too much on the merits of our past battles is a mistake."

Azur bristled when he heard the rattling of the doorknob above his head. He wondered if Scar got his message when he deliberately slammed the door in front of him. If he didn’t, he’d make sure that the ShadowWereGarurumon would get it in the form of the impression his fist was going to make on his face. Or he could try and follow Fenrir’s teachings and just ignore, ignore, ignore. It wasn’t like Scar could force the door open, with him sitting right in front of it.

"Azur?"

Azur had to stop his thought in his tracks for another. ‘That’s not Scar’s voice,’ he mentally told himself. In fact, it sounded a lot like…

"Are you in there?" the voice asked, confirming his deduction.

“Pyra,” he whispered as he stood up to allow her inside. A few seconds after getting away from the door, however, he was beginning to get second thoughts. Wasn’t it just a while ago that he decided to give her some breathing space?

Just as he was about to tell Pyra that he wasn’t feeling up for talking, he saw the door swing open, revealing the lady Digimon that made his heart jump with only a single glance her way…and doggonnit, he wanted to talk to her. Be with her.

‘So much for staying away…’

"Hi, Azur," she greeted with a light smile. "It looks like we finally have some time to catch up."

Azur offered her a small and tired smile, a trace of wariness tinged in his expression. Either he really hadn’t seen Pyra in a long, long while, or his observation skills had gotten a lot more better than he thought. The smile on Pyra’s face didn’t seem like the ones she usually had…and it didn’t make him feel any better when it disappeared from her face.

"Actually, Azur... There's something I need to talk to you about..." she admitted.

Azur frowned. She didn’t need her to tell him that for him to know. He had figured that out the moment she avoided him just as soon as the meeting as over. And for all his curiosity, he wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to talk about it if she was so uncertain about it. About him. He stayed quiet as she stepped closer to him. He had to keep himself from drawing her into him.

"I..." She closed her eyes, waiting several seconds as she contemplated what to say.

"...remembered what you said about Fenrir and I want to know what happened," she finished, opening her eyes to form a grimace. Pyra mentally berated and swore at herself for failing to go through with her confession.

Azur watched her expressionlessly. His, no, Fenrir’s experience had nothing to do about her brother, or at least anything that he knew about. Even then, he knew that wasn’t it…and her expression showed it.

"Afterwards, how about we go to the bar with Scharlach and the others? Or we could even stay here."

Azur regarded Pyra with silence. A part of him was frustrated, because he wanted to know what was bothering her. He wanted to get rid of the thing between them so that they could enjoy their time together with nothing hanging over either of their heads. The other part, the one that he had been trying to foster with Fenrir’s guidance, wanted to give her the time to have the confidence and courage to tell him without regrets.

Azur closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted from one to ten in his head. He opened his eyes and saw Pyra looking nervous in front of him. That was exactly what he didn’t want. He had fallen in love with the confident Paildramon that could look him in the eye.

“The details of Fenrir’s death…isn’t for me to tell,” he told Pyra, looking down at the ground and trying to keep his temper from getting the better of him. “And I don’t wanna visit the bar right now,” he added, looking away from the ground and out to the window.

Another bout of silence fell upon them, and he didn’t know about Pyra, but it was beginning to turn him restless. “Pyra,” he started. “That…isn’t what you want to talk about…is it?” he asked, his voice low.

He turned to her, the part that wants to get him to tell her beginning to take control. And then he saw her, saw a foreign fear in her eyes, and his annoyance turned into helplessness. “You need time. You’ll get time,” he told her, looking into her eyes. “And…I’ll give it to you,” he said a bit weakly.

And then for the first time, he moved his legs to stand right in front of her, and he raised his hands to place them on her face. He put his face close and stared into his eyes. He could see her so vulnerable, so he needed her to see him that way too. And he hoped she could see it in his eyes. He then pulled her head down and pressed his lips lightly against the top of her head. He let out a sigh and drew away from her, his eyes closed.

“I think…I need to get out of this place right now,” he told her. His voice wasn’t angry or harsh. He said it as if it was only a fact that needed to be stated.

The WereGarurumon then started to walk past her, but then he stopped for a moment right beside her. He then spoke in a soft voice that was just loud enough for her to hear him. “I love you, Pyra. I hope you still know that.”

He then walked out of the room, his mind stewing and his emotions skewed. A few feet from the door, his restlessness finally got to him. He started to run.

Aeria had to keep herself from squeaking and jumping in surprise. She might have been looking for someone she knew, but having that someone appear from behind her was disconcerting nonetheless.

Huh, I never knew there was such a thing as a girl WarGreymon. You learn something new every day, I guess."

Aeria gathered her senses up and gave a small nod towards Sha’s direction. “I guess,” she started, her voice hard to hear compared to the hubbub of the tavern. She rubbed her arm and looked down, looking every bit of awkward as her timid voice let on.

Sha could tell she felt uncomfortable in the bar, so he stood next to her and continued, "What brings ya here? You don't look like you're the type to come to this kinda place. To be honest, I don't actually come to places like this often...last time, I got so drunk I went Leviamon and nearly ate the bartender! Cha-haw!"

Aeria had to let the new information sink in before being able to reply. “That sounds…um…fun?” she ventured. She didn’t really think it was that, but she didn’t really know any other word to use. Plus, to the WarGreymon, Sha seemed like the person who might’ve thought it was fun.

She then looked around. “I didn’t really…I was actually,” she started, trying to explain why she was there in the first place. “I just…want to get out of here,” she told him.

“Oh, it’s not because of you! You’re…you’re really nice,” she quickly told him in case he mistook her want to leave as a way to get away from him. “I just don’t really like…crowds,” she said weakly, looking around. She mentally wondered if it was only her imagination that the number of people in the room increased.

She turned to the Shawjamon. “Can you please point me to the exit? Please?” she asked. It was probably the slight tone of desperation in her voice that made him decide to do so; she had a feeling that he was the same kind of guy as the ShadowWereGarurumon that brought her there in the first place: someone who wanted to get others to have fun. She gave a grateful smile when he did so, albeit with a bit of his own flair. “Thank you,” she told him before she went off to the exit.

It took her some time, especially her trying to avoid the more crowded areas so that she could get forced into another place and lose her direction again. She especially avoided the tables where drunken Digimon were already started to congregate. She gave a sigh of extreme relief when she found herself in front the exit.

She walked towards it with one arm in front of her, ready to open it, but she immediately retracted it when the door opened itself. She stepped backwards in surprise. She then noticed that whoever opened the door wasn’t quite paying attention and was walking – no, jogging towards her.

“W-wai-“ she started, putting her palm in front of her in hopes that she could stop the person before they collided. She couldn’t, and then she felt herself and her collider begin to fall to the ground.

Aeria winced when her back and behind met the ground painfully. It took her a few seconds before she was able to open her eyes to see who had bowled into her. And her heart stopped.

‘It can’t- but he’s- it’s,’ she kept on thinking, staring at the man she loved over her. The man she thought she killed. And then she blinked.

“You’re…you’re not,” she started, realizing that while they looked similar, there were significant differences. But the figure over her still looked familiar, and that’s when she realized. “Y-you’re Tyr,” she whispered.

--------------------------------------------------------

Azur continued his run through the castle rooms and hallways, trying to relieve himself from the excess energy that was running through his veins. Without Pyra around, his frustration had come back, and it was eating at him to do something.

He slowed down to a walk when he began to hear familiar voices coming from one of the rooms he was heading towards. He stopped right beside the entrance, giving a name and face to the voices that he heard. Barachiel. Caradoc. Guinier. He stayed silent and listening in on their conversation, letting the voices permeate into his head and trying to piece together what they were talking about since it seemed like they had already been talking for some time. He was too weary to think about not eavesdropping and just going on impulse.

From what he could gather, it seemed like they were planning to get out of the palace and try to save someone. He didn’t know, but he could guess that it might’ve been one of the gods or the angel that Barachiel seemed to care for. For a second, he wondered if they had the same relationship as he did with Galic.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Guinier’s voice suddenly rang loud. He shook his head and began to listen some more. And that’s when an idea struck him.

“I’m going with you,” Azur said loudly as he entered the room. He was intruding, he knew. He didn’t care. He needed to get out and beat something up. He might as well make the feeling productive. “If you need to find someone, then I’ll make your chances better,” he added, knowing that he would be able to help with his enhanced senses of hearing and smell.

“Fenrir would want me to make myself useful,” he told them. That was a lie. It was something Fenrir would not have approved of. The ancient would’ve been telling him to think things through, but to hell with it; Fenrir wasn’t around to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do.

There are stories made from the imagination. There are stories born from experience.
There are stories told because of a need to be filled. There are stories that simply need to be told.This is one of them.

“Maybe there really is a method to his madness…or maybe he’s just plain insane."Chapter 3: Act III is out and posted!

"Sigurd," said a BlackWarGreymon who grabbed his arm and forced him to release Gunnar. Ulik then gave Gunnar a silent yet warm nod.

"So what brings you here, Gunnar?" Dhaz asked. "Don't you have important things to attend to with the Peacemakers? I heard more rumours about the Mephistomon."

Gunnar beamed. "We came back here for a day or two and we're waiting on stand-by. More importantly, you won't believe who I met yesterday!" he exclaimed in excitement.

"The doctor to try and fix your idiocy?" Sigurd quipped huffily, still bitter that Gunnar was picked over him to join the Peacemakers.

"Even better! Tyr! Tyr's back, guys!" Gunnar exclaimed. He watched as the three faces of his comrades morphed into a mixture of joy and shock.

"What?!" they all asked at more-or-less the same time.

"I dunno. The Peacemakers split up into two groups to do two different things. I went with one group, kicked *ss, and when we met up with the other group again, Tyr was with them! It was awesome," the ShineGreymon explained.

"Where did that b*stard go to, leaving us all worried like that?!" Sigurd demanded.

Ulik looked over at the WarGreymon with a rare grin. "I knew you were worried."

"...Take your Brave Shield and shove it!" he snapped at the BlackWarGreymon, flushing as he turned his face in the opposite direction.

"To answer your question, Siggy," Gunnar began. "He and Tiwaz were travelling around being knights-errant. He needed some time away from it all and ya can't really blame him."

"That's great news, Gunnar," Dhazbog said happily. "Where is he now?"

"That's the thing," Gunnar told him. "I told him to meet us at the tavern nearest to the council hall. I want us all to throw him a welcome home party."

The EmperorGreymon nodded and looked at Sigurd and Ulik. "Sounds great. We're all off duty, too. I'll get my wallet."

Gunnar shook his head and placed his hands on his hips smugly. "No need for that, Dhazzy! I'm a Peacemaker now! They wouldn't make somebody who's trying to save the world pay for drinks now would they? One of the perks of being a PM! Hey, this is how the Royal Knights must have felt. Hah! Guys! I'm like a Royal Knight! Hah haaah!" he delighted, though it definately came off as bragging. This was particularly evident when Sigurd let out a string of profanity under his breath.

"Well, let's get going then," Dhaz said, walking out and leading the way.

-

“The details of Fenrir’s death…isn’t for me to tell,” he told Pyra, looking down at the ground and trying to keep his temper from getting the better of him. “And I don’t wanna visit the bar right now,” he added, looking away from the ground and out to the window.

Another bout of silence fell upon them, and he didn’t know about Pyra, but it was beginning to turn him restless. “Pyra,” he started. “That…isn’t what you want to talk about…is it?” he asked, his voice low.

Pyra's heart seemed to freeze and panic. "How did he know?!" she asked herself. She grimaced and opened her mouth to admit the truth, but Azur got a word in before she could. He then took her face in his hands and they gazed into one another's eyes. In his gold eyes, Pyra could see an... insecurity.

“I think…I need to get out of this place right now,” he told her. His voice wasn’t angry or harsh. He said it as if it was only a fact that needed to be stated.

The WereGarurumon then started to walk past her, but then he stopped for a moment right beside her. He then spoke in a soft voice that was just loud enough for her to hear him. “I love you, Pyra. I hope you still know that.”

Pyra's mind worked furiously and she could feel the sensation of guilt in the pit of her stomach. "Why did he say these things? Why was that so awkward? And why was he acting so strangely? There's no way he could have deduced that much just by the way I acted just now. Did he... Did he eavesdrop on Galic and I?!"

The Paildramon swore under her breath and swung around but saw that Azur was since gone from the doorway. She hurried over to the door and peered out into the hallway, but the WereGarurumon was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn it," Pyra thought angrily as she went in the direction Azur had turned down. "Great idea, Pyra..."

-

“I’m going with you,” Azur said loudly as he entered the room. He was intruding, he knew. He didn’t care. He needed to get out and beat something up. He might as well make the feeling productive. “If you need to find someone, then I’ll make your chances better,” he added, knowing that he would be able to help with his enhanced senses of hearing and smell.

“Fenrir would want me to make myself useful,” he told them.

"Well... as long as you're aware of the risks, you're all free to come," Barachiel said. "Thank you again. I won't forget this."

The TigerVespamon then took out his deactivated Royal Meisters and led the party towards the courtyard. "Let's go. It's best we leave before anybody sees us."

-

Gunnar, Dhazbog, Sigurd and Ulik all sat at a table for five in the tavern, waiting for their other friend to show up. A Guardromon walked up to the table and bowed. "Why hello, my dear patrons! What can I get for you today from this fine establishment?" he asked.

Dhazbog looked between the four before turning to the Guardromon. "Three ales, two smoked beers, all from Hymir's, and your biggest serving of nachos, please."

"But of course, my good fellows!" the Guardromon said with unwavering enthusiasm. "Business is boo-hooming today!"

Sigurd looked at the robot digimon with a raised eyebrow, trying to place why he seemed so familiar. "Uhh... have we met before?" he asked while inspecting the Guardromon.

Gunnar squinted his eyes and nodded. "Yeah... you do seem familia- wait! It's you! You're guy who ran the cafeteria back in the palace in Avalon! We worked for you during our disciplinary duty."

The Guardromon blinked. "You... I remember you guys. You're the ones who started that horrific food fight! You don't deserve our nachos!"

Dhazbog raised his hands in front of himself defensively. "No no no. That wasn't us. It was... uhh..."

When the Guardromon left, Dhazbog turned back to Gunnar, his face more serious. "So how's the hunt going, Gunnar?"

"Uhh..." Gunnar stalled. "It's... good."

"Liar," Ulik muttered, idly playing with a piece of wood sticking out from the edge of the table.

Gunnar winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, okay... Between us guys, we're trying a new tactic."

"What tactic is that?" Dhazbog asked.

"It's called 'sitting on our tails'," Gunnar said with a shrug.

Sigurd rolled his eyes. "Terrific... Our elite team has given up."

"It's not that," the ShineGreymon explained. "It's that we have to wait because that's part of our plan. Anyways, where's Tyr, already? The nachos will be cold and gross at this rate."

-

Tyr raced down the street towards the bar after leaving the council courtyard. He wasn't sure how long Tiwaz had been talking to Bedivere, but he didn't want to keep Gunnar waiting. "I hope I didn't take too long, the VictoryGreymon told himself while jogging up towards the bar's entrance. "I think this is the right one."

Tyr swung the door open and Tiwaz voiced his advice to Tyr. "Tyr, I suggest you- look out!" he warned upon seeing a WarGreymon standing in front of them.

The hapless dragon-man saw her, but he couldn't stop himself. He plowed into her and sent her onto her back. Of course, in true Tyr fashion, he too tripped and fell to his knees, which landed on either sides of her legs. Although he managed to avoid crushing her, he continued falling forwards. His right arm hit the floor first, so that was the arm his weight fell on. While that arm missed Aeria, his left hand ended up on her chest.

"Ow..." he said, as he opened his eyes.

“You’re…you’re not,” she started, realizing that while they looked similar, there were significant differences. But the figure over her still looked familiar, and that’s when she realized. “Y-you’re Tyr,” she whispered.

Tyr focused on the WarGreymon's face. "...Aeria...?" he asked, stunned to see her.

To any onlookers, the position that the two were in was inadvertantly rather... suggestive. In fact, a few laughs and wolf-whistles rang out from the bustling tavern.

"Not a bad catch, huh, Gunnar?" Sigurd asked the resident ladies man.

The ShineGreymon's only response was a pained exhale.

It took a few seconds for Tyr to really realize that he had just knocked down his teammate, Aeria. The VictoryGreymon then looked at his left hand and saw that it had landed on a rather unfortunate area.

"A-AH!" Tyr stuttered, shooting upwards so that he was half off of Aeria. His face turned a deep shade of red as blood surged into his face from sheer embarrassment. He then looked down to see that he was still kneeling over here. He literally jumped to his feet and staggered backwards.

"I-I I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I just-- I fell on you and-- It wasn't intentional, I swear! I'm really sorry! It was an accident!" the blushing VictoryGreymon frantically explained, waving his arms to try to aid his point. "I bumped into you and fell and I was just trying to catch myself! I didn't mean to knock you down either! I just-- Aw nuts! Nuts! Nuts! Nuts!"

"I missed you guys," Tyr admitted, pulling the three into a hug. "Sorry for worrying you."

Gunnar, having composed himself since the incident with Tyr and Aeria, noticed that the beer and nachos have arrived at their table. "Hey, our stuff's here," he pointed out before walking over and sliding into his chair. The rest of the Greymon sat down as well.

"That's a lot of nachos..." Tyr said, gazing at the large plate of food. His stomach growled. It had been awhile since he had a fulfilling meal.

A smile crawled onto Tyr's face. "Gee, thanks, guys... You don't know how much that means."

Sigurd rolled his eyes. "No getting all sappy, Tyr. Let's just eat, drink and have a good time, got it?"

Tyr nodded and grinned. "Deal."

-

Kheprius continued to take in Samael's answers, bringing the edge of his glass to his mouth as he listened, so that he felt the carbonated bubbles against his 'lips'. "Cripes," he thought. "Sammy's got as many problems as I do. 'Looks like I'm not the only one here who tortured people either." He decided not to continue with that line of questioning though. Despite his whirling vision, he could tell by Samael's face that it was weighing on him. Khep supposed that he would have been the same way if Samael started bringing up Khep's victims.

"Ain't like Michael's perfect though," Samael said, glad to change the subject. "And he'd be the first to admit it, too. He and Lucifer were close back then, like Dunk and Azur were. When you love your brother like that, and he just turns against everything you believe, how can you not doubt?"

The last sentence in particular struck Kheprius. He started to think about Barachiel. Was that the reason why Barachiel hated him so much? Because Khep went against what his religion taught him? The GrandisKuwagamon's grip tightened on the handle of his glass mug.

"I can't believe that after all we've been through you still can't accept the possibility of 'God'," he made some air-quotes with his fingers. "We're fightin' demons who want to get the devil loose from Hell, we killed the physical manifestation of freakin' Nothingness, and hang out with thousands year old gods. After all that you've got trouble accepting that some sort of...whatever God is...really exists? You think you've figured out something 100 million angels haven't? Who's kiddin' who, buddy?"

"I'll believe it when I see it," Khep said with a dismissive wave. "For real, Sam? You're goin' with the 'how can 100 million people be wrong?' argument? It's simple, buddy: people are idiots. They believe in God because they want to believe in God. They want to believe that if they're undyingly loyal and extra good, they'll be rewarded. I hate to say it, Sammy, but you're one of them."

His red eye fixated on his drink as he brought it up to his face. "This monotheistic religion hasn't been around since the beginning of time, it suddenly sprung up a thousand or however-many years ago, founded by some Seraphimon and his buddies who wanted something for nothing. They came up with this story and then they played on people's fears and desires as a mean to get them to do whatever bureaucrats at the top tell them to. And guess what? It worked! There's legions of angels who would disregard all sense of morality and tear the world apart if they were told that God wanted them to do it."

He then brought his empty glass down onto the bar before turning to Samael. "Tell me, Sam, when you were an angel, no, even since the fall, have you ever seen any trace of this God? Ever heard from him at all? Do you really believe that the Seven Sacred Angels are really so holy? That the Metatron is actually a prophet and not some nutjob, or, even worse, told to interpret what the high ranking angels want him to interpret?"

Khep sighed. "Sure, there's some weird stuff in the world, but all that's just history. And don't forget, demons used to be angels, so it's no wonder they believe parts of this religion. Don't get me wrong, the Pantheistic gods aren't much better. Thor? Svarog? Tiwaz? Vritra? Fenrir? They're no gods to me. They can just do fancy tricks with certain elements."

"Speakin' of putting a damper on things, what'dya say we stop doin' just that? This is gettin' unfreakin'believably depressing." He looked around to the rest of the Peacemakers and bar-goers. "What'dya say we start a fight or somethin'?"

It was a few drinks later by this point and Khep was having trouble sitting up right on the stool. "Hey, now there's th' smart Sammy that we know 'an love," Khep said, staggering off of his seat. He looked around and, after a moment of centering his vision, saw Tyr and his friends sitting at a near by table. "And I know just now to do it!"

Khep stalked over to the table and balled up his fist. He tapped Sigurd on the shoulder to get his attention. Sigurd turned around. "Compliments from Samael..."

The insect digimon then drilled his fist into the WarGreymon's snout and sent him face-first into the nachos on the table.

"Khep!" Tyr protested.

Sigurd growled and spun around. He lunged out of his chair and swung his fist forwards. Khep ducked just at the right time, causing his fist to impact Samael instead. Dhazbog then tackled Khep down and Ulik tried to hold Sigurd back.

And then the bar fight begun.

-

Barachiel flew through the night alongside Caradoc, Guinier and Azur, who was in his MagnaGarurumon form. He scanned the landscape carefully for any signs of a castle or even a cave.

The TigerVespamon looked over his shoulder at the others. They had been flying for at least an hour now with no sign of anything. Perhaps they should rest and reaccess their plan. Then Barachiel remembered that Hadrael's life was at stake, so he stamped out the thought completely. They needed to find him.

"Where would he be? Babylon? No... even if that place is a hive for criminals, it's too crowded for somebody like Mephistopheles. Mephistopheles' minions have to stay somewhere though. I wouldn't be surprised if that Myotismon or BlackWarGreymon had a castle or mansion somewhere." Barachiel rubbed his chin with his hand pensively. "I'd suggest we split up, but if one of us is ambushed and we're too seperated..."

Barachiel turned around and slowed the beats of his wings until they made a dim humming sound, ushering the others to stop. "Caradoc? Guinier? Azur? Do you have any ideas? At the moment we're just flying blind... and that's my fault." He sighed. "If only there was a way we knew where to find them. If only I were an angel... then Hadrael might be able to contact me with an Enochian sigil..."

"We should head back to the mission," Caradoc determined. "From there, Azur could trace the ones who took Hadrael by scent, and we should be able to follow their trail right to Mephistopheles." The Valkyrimon turned in mid-air, angling towards the mission. "Let's move. The longer we wait, the more the trail will fade..."

-

After roughly two hours' more worth of travelling, they arrived back at what once was the mission. As they touched down, Caradoc gazed up at the tree Michael had created there, recalling what they had found in the mission, the blood-splattered, ruined library. Was this what they would have to face?

But still... it was only two Beetlemon. They had attacked monks, acolytes, not trained, armed Digimon used to battle, Digimon who had overcome the Royal Knights. Even with the edge of Mephistopheles, this wasn't in the favor of the attackers. Besides, if all went to plan, they'd be in and out before Mephistopheles could act against them. This wasn't an assassination, this was a rescue mission.

"Before we start," he said, turning to his three allies. "I want to lay out our aims. The purpose of this is to rescue Hadrael. That's it. If we try to go for glory now, we'll probably all be captured or killed, and that would just weaken everyone trying to stop him. So we go in, we launch a surgical attack to get to Hadrael, and then we get out. We can't afford to get bogged down, because Mephistopheles has a numerical advantage and his soldiers are stronger than they should be. So we avoid battle if we can, we move to find Hadrael, and then we get him out and back to Anatolia."

He stopped, glancing to each of the three in turn.

"What if we have to fight Mephistopheles?" Guinier asked.

"We don't," Caradoc replied. "He's too strong... with his magic, he can easily overcome us. It's not that we couldn't kill him in a straight battle... but he won't let it be that way. He'll twist things to give himself the edge. If you can avoid fighting him, do. If not..." he closed his eyes, "then I'll hope for you. That's all I can do..." His voice trailed off sadly, bitterly, it was clear he didn't want to think of how helpless they were in the face of the demon and all his power.

"Let's move... Azur, can you try and find us that trail, please?"

-

"Where are they?"

Bedivere was stalking the skies above Anatolia, glaring out across the countryside as his Fragarach burned in his hand.

"Who's missing?" It was Vritra, the crimson dragoness rising from the city on burning wings as she followed his gaze.

"Caradoc, Guinier, Azur and Barachiel," Bedivere growled. "I can't find them anywhere in the city, and no-one's seen them for a few hours."

"Fools... I thought they weren't that stupid... clearly I was wrong," Vritra muttered, turning, before a hand caught her shoulder and she snarled, glaring back to see Bedivere holding her back.

"What do you know, Vritra?"

"They mentioned going to save that angel, Hadrael," she retorted, tearing free. "If that's all, I'll be on my way." With that, she burst into the sky in a rush of hot wind and embers, leaving a simultaneously furious and aghast Bedivere in her wake.

"He wouldn't... would he? He is foolish enough... heroic enough... if he wants to play the hero, how better than to...?" His voice trailed off and he burst downwards, shooting into the city. He needed Michael. Fast.

-

"Michael!"

He found the archangel in a regal, verdant courtyard which overflowed with plant life, a series of shallow ponds decorating one side with shimmering water. Bedivere came to a halt on the grass, landing neatly and banishing the Fragarach in a flash of flames.

"I believe Caradoc has taken Barachiel, Guinier and Azur to try and rescue Hadrael," he spoke curtly, getting right to the problematic issue. "I can't find any of them anywhere here, and they were overheard talking about trying to rescue him..."

Aeria raised her head to look at him, unexpectedly meeting his eyes, and nodded. She would have been so much more embarrassed if her mind hadn’t decided to play games with her vision the moment before. “It’s…okay,” she mumbled under her breath as she rubbed her arm.

She then ducked her head again. “I’m…tired now. I’ll be going,” she told them. “I’m sorry for bumping into you,” she said quickly as she turned back to the door, almost running to get out of the room.

As soon as her face was blasted with the cool air of the outside, she stopped. She brought her arms around her and then bit her lip, Roman’s face still on her mind.

“Don’t break down,” she whispered to himself. “Not here.”

Aeria shook her head to try to compose herself and then looked around. She wondered what direction the castle was, since that was where she was told they would be staying. She wasn’t sure from what direction she had come from.

She momentarily contemplated going back inside the tavern to ask for directions to the castle, but it was then that feelings of humiliation and self-consciousness had set in. She had little doubt that people wouldn’t recognize her if she came back inside. She didn’t think she could handle that, nor did she think she could muster the guts to ask someone at random inside. They might be drunk, and she might get herself in a predicament.

She looked up, seeing the castle’s high walls and towers above house roofs and chimneys. She would have tried flying, but her energy levels were shot enough as they were; she feared that she might fall down to the ground from exhaustion. The WarGreymon decided to walk towards it, hoping that if she just followed the castle’s direction, she’d eventually reach it.

--------------------------------------------------------

"We don't," Caradoc replied. "He's too strong... with his magic, he can easily overcome us. It's not that we couldn't kill him in a straight battle... but he won't let it be that way. He'll twist things to give himself the edge. If you can avoid fighting him, do. If not..." he closed his eyes, "then I'll hope for you. That's all I can do..." His voice trailed off sadly, bitterly, it was clear he didn't want to think of how helpless they were in the face of the demon and all his power.

Well, that didn’t sit very well with Azur. He had joined because he thought that he could relieve some stress using his fists. But while he himself hasn’t tried fighting Mephistopheles yet, he knew better than to try his luck against him. If the combined forces of half of the Peacemaker force couldn’t make it, including Thor and Tiwaz, then he doubted that he could either.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

"Let's move... Azur, can you try and find us that trail, please?"

Azur had to keep himself from sighing out loud. He had tried to tell him that he and Scar already tried to track the scent the first time, but the Valkyrimon had already left, followed by Guinier and Barachiel. He was left to scowl and followed as well.

“No promises,” he said curtly. He decided to go to where he thought was the last place he thought he scented the odor of the unknown Digimon. He didn’t bother making a show of him sniffing and looking around.

His eyes quickly spotted the drag and foot trails that he had preciously seen. It was almost unnoticeable, probably due to the wind dragging dust over it since the day before, but the outlines were just barely visible to his eyes thanks to his growing observation skills.

The MagnaGarurumon then knelt close to the ground and rubbed his fingers on the prints before bringing it up to his nose. He closed his eyes and took a long inhale, letting the smells of the dust on his fingers and his surroundings permeate in his nose. He tried to locate the smells before, of the two Beetlemon, as well as that of Hadreal’s.

He opened his eyes, frowning. The smell of the area had changed drastically since the destruction of the mission, but he could still find the old scents underneath…the putrid stench of rot and death. It unnerved him to find that he could still smell the Beetlemons’ odors, albeit fainter than it was before. But it unnerved him more to find that the angel’s scent was almost completely gone; he wouldn’t have been able to find it were it not for the scent of metal, of blood, that had mingled with it.

He stood back up, looking to the tree that stood in place of the blasphemed building. It was a stretch. It was also guesswork. He turned back to Caradoc, Guinier and an expectant Hadreal.

“The scent is old. Older. They came from the mission and stopped here before taking flight,” he told them, gesturing to the ground that he stood upon. “The scent in the air is long gone, but the one in the ground is still there. Stale. Faint.”

“Assuming they walked to the direction they wanted to go…they went that way,” the canine told them, pointing in a direction. He then lowered his arm. "Like I said, assuming."

He then turned back to Caradoc and Barachiel, waiting. "Well...do we go there?"

--------------------------------------------------------

Aeria sighed and blinked her eyes tiredly as she made another turn to another corner. She stopped and stood silently, helplessly, as she saw one more street with more corners than she had fingers on both hands.

She would have turned back to the tavern, but by the time she decided that she would, she had found that she didn’t know the path back either. The darkness of the night had turned every corner and every street the same to her eyes.

“Still…not there,” she told herself as she leaned against the wall nearest to her. “I should have…asked when I had the chance,” she berated herself as she pushed herself off the wall to continue walking forward. At that time of night, the streets were empty of other creatures, and she had long lost sight of the castle.

After a few minutes, she found herself in front of a fountain surrounded by a small hedge of flowers. In neatly arranged places around it were benches long enough to hold up a small family.

Her legs weak, she forced herself to walk to the nearest one and sat with a loud plop. She looked around once more, hoping for the bare chance that she might spot the road that would lead to the castle gates, or maybe for someone to tell her the way so that she could get closer to finally rest her body on a bed and her head on a pillow.

Nothing.

She clasped her hands together and rested them on her lap. She bit her lip and ducked her head. She tried to keep the tears from appearing from her eyes at how helpless and tired she felt. For all her effort, she couldn’t keep one of the tears from escaping and trailing down her face, making a cold line as it went and dropped off of her face. The female WarGreymon rubbed at her face furiously before looking at the empty space beside her.

“I…guess this is it,” she told herself.

It wouldn’t have been her first time she had been forced to sleep under undesirably conditions. Just the night before, she had rested with a rock as her pillow. This time, though, she wouldn’t have a fire nearby to keep her warm…well, that wouldn’t have been her first time either. And when she woke up, most likely when sun came up, she might find someone early bird to give her directions to the castle.

She pulled her legs up, and then she laid herself along the bench. She pulled one of her arms close to her chest and crossed her legs to a near fetal position in an attempt to save her body heat, and she used one of her palms to give her head some cushion other than the hard wood of her make-shift bed.

“This isn’t so bad,” she told herself, hoping that saying it would make it more real. It didn’t, really, but she tried her best to keep it from getting to her.

She closed her eyes to sleep. Her body that longed for the warmth of a blanket was instead hugged by the cool night. Her head that wanted something to bury itself in a soft pillow was instead buffeted by cold wind. Aeria prayed for sleep to come soon and save her from the unforgiving nature of the place where she slept. And soon enough, her mind finally, gratefully, fell to the blackness of sleep.

Just before it did, she hoped that it wouldn’t rain.

(OOC: If no one posts tomorrow, then I'll edit this to add some parts.)

Last edited by Tundra_Wolfmane; 8th February 2011 at 4:29 PM.

There are stories made from the imagination. There are stories born from experience.
There are stories told because of a need to be filled. There are stories that simply need to be told.This is one of them.

“Maybe there really is a method to his madness…or maybe he’s just plain insane."Chapter 3: Act III is out and posted!